


Bad is the New Good

by DancingInTheRain



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), aidean - Fandom
Genre: Aidan and Adam shared a cell, Aidan's parents are ignorant, Ex-Cons, M/M, alternative universe, difficult past, difficult relationship with family, mention of bullying at work, prison!au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-24
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2018-01-13 15:27:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1231579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DancingInTheRain/pseuds/DancingInTheRain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having spent three years in prison, Aidan has left nothing. His old life has crashed to pieces and now he needs to slowly rebuild it. The only help he gets is from his only friend and cellie, Adam. </p><p>But every dark cloud has a silver shining. Or a blond one in his case.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

His hands were shaking and Aidan curled them into fists to stop it. It didn’t help very much. He felt like having a fever and despite the cool spring air, he was sweating in his thin jacket and worn down denims. A slight breeze rustled the neatly cut hedgerow that surrounded the townhouses little front yard. Golden groom in his mother’s flower boxes nodded in the wind, planting little yellow dots against the grey house walls. Aidan tightened his jacket around his shoulders; it was a bit too big for him since he’d lost weight in the last three years and the clothes were the ones he had worn the day he’d been nicked up. They were shabby and out of fashion surely, but right now, they were the only things he had to wear.

He’d wanted to come straight here after being released this morning, but when he looked into his cell’s mirror, he’d changed his mind. The few money he’d had with him before being locked up was enough to get a haircut and a good shave. Automatically, he reached up and scratched his itching chin. He’d removed the full beard since it looked utterly ridiculous. He couldn’t care less about it those past months, but now, being back in public also meant getting a decent appearance again. When the barber had shown him the end result, he had been more than a little shocked. Without the beard covering his face’s lower half and the long curls he mostly tied back in a little bun he looked young again. Somehow vulnerable and exposed. The extra hair on his head and face had given him a few years in looks and maybe, he mused, that had been a good thing after all. Surely, looking like a man way in his thirties rather than a young lad in his early twenties had saved him a lot of trouble. Still, it had been enough for a life time.

He shuddered and pushed the thoughts away. This was neither the place nor the time to think about that. Now, he had to focus on the task at hand. Which brought back his nerves full force. Getting here had been difficult. Not because he didn’t remember the way, this was his family home, he’d find the way in his sleep. The problem was that his savings – what a laughable term since it had only been a wad of notes – hadn’t been enough to take the bus up to the stop nearest his parents house. He had walked the last mile and given the worn out sneakers he was constantly wearing, his feet hurt. The thin summer jacket and the worn out ‘The Doors’-T-Shirt he wore underneath hadn’t done much to shield him against the wind and above all, it had started drizzling slightly on the last meters.

Aidan raised his hand again and tried to flatten his hair, knowing how they tended to curl even more when getting wet. Sighing, he let his hand drop again. It was in vain. He looked a mess and he knew it. But he also knew that his appearance wouldn’t change anything. Aidan could have come here wearing an Armani suit and smelling of Gucci and nothing would be different.

He was terrified. 

That seemed to become a constant state of his mind these days.

Despite everyone who knew him was thinking, Aidan wasn’t a fool. He knew what laid ahead of him and he was very aware of how difficult the path ahead of him was. He’d read about it in the letters Adam had written. Sweet, gentle Adam who had shared his cell for the first 18 months of Aidan’s sentence. They had become close friends over the time and after Adam’s discharge, he was the only one who wrote and visited regularly. He had been some kind of constant factor in Aidan’s otherwise dull but difficult life. Thinking of Adam was calming; Aidan knew that in case everything went wrong, he still could contact his former cellie. The Irishman felt his stomach turn at this thought. Deep inside, he already knew that everything was going to go wrong.

Adam had even opted to pick him up outside Castlerea Prison where Aidan was discharged three hours ago. Not that Adam had a car, no; but the bus ride wouldn’t be so lonely he wrote in his last letter. Aidan had declined politely, knowing that he had to do this on his own. He also knew Adam would have missed a shift in the shabby fast food restaurant he was currently working in and Aidan didn’t want his mate to lose his job. Times were difficult enough for the gentle Englishman, he shouldn’t have to deal with Aidan’s shit on top of that.

So Aidan had rode out here alone, bringing all his belongings with him: his clothes, a now empty wallet and the necklace his mother had gifted him a few years ago. That was all. He’d never felt so bare and stripped down to nothing in his life, not even in the communal shower with his fellow prisoners every day.

Aidan again shook himself out of these thoughts and finally mustered the courage to use the doorknocker. His heart stopped at the sound of metal banging against solid wood that echoed through the house. Then it picked up speed until it was raising in his chest, making it hard to breath once again.

His whole body trembling, Aidan waited for his parents to open the door.


	2. Chapter 2

It was his mother who opened. Erin Turner looked just the way Aidan remembered her: tall and slender with dark curly hair, beautiful despite being in her mid fifties. Family and friends had always said just how much Aidan resembled her. She was wearing one of those dresses from the seventies she liked so much. She was drying her hands at the apron she was wearing, probably in the middle of preparing lunch. There was a friendly and welcoming smile on her face, but it fell the moment she saw who was standing on the threshold. She paled and for a moment, there was complete silence.

'Hey mamaí.'

Mrs. Turner blinked a few times, as if she couldn’t believe what she saw. Her hands clutched at the apron helplessly and she was clearly in a loss of words.

'Who is it, Erin?', another voice floated out of the house and a few moments later, there were footsteps and Aidan's father came into view. Pearse Turner too froze for a moment, gaping at the sight before him.

'Aidan?' There was disbelief in his voice and a sharp edge Aidan couldn't quite place. His nerves were back fully now, as he waited for his father's reactions.

Behind his parents, Aidan could see his brother and sister standing in the doorway that led to the living-room; Kieran and Deirdre looked stunned, to say the least. For a long moment, the whole family was silent.

Then -

'What are you doing here?'

The cool edge in his father’s voice hurt. Aidan’s stomach knotted painfully, but he was carful not to let anything shown on his face.

'I - got released this morning. I wrote it in the letter I sent you a week ago.'

His parents just looked at him saying nothing, but Aidan just knew they wouldn’t know that because they didn’t read his letter. Maybe none of the many he had sent over the three years; he didn’t know why he kept writing them when they were never answered. Hope, eventually. Some part of Aidan’s mind had always denied accepting the truth: that his parents, his family, had abandoned him.

Deep inside, he had known the moment his verdict had been enforced. His parents had been there in court, but only at the last day. They had turned their backs and walked out without looking back towards their son.

They never visited either. The only visitor Aidan got was Adam, after he’d been released. The brunet was thankful for that, giving him a slight variety in his otherwise dull and monotone daily routine. Once a week, maybe twice if he could arrange it, the Englishman had been there in the visitor’s room. Talking to Aidan for half an hour, sometimes bringing him books.

Neither his parents nor his brother or sister had visited him once.

Aidan swallowed thickly.

'I thought maybe you'd come pick me up.' Deep down he knew this was in vain, but the stubborn part of Aidan's still young mind refused to accept that. His was their son, their eldest - surely there was some love left they could spare for him.

His mother’s lip trembled slightly and her eyes watered up, but she wouldn’t look at her son but looked down on the box of golden groom right next to the front door as if there was something really interesting to be seen there.

Pearse Turner was brave enough to look at his son. His eyes, the same chocolaty brown as Aidan’s, lacked the usual gentleness and humor. Aidan was taken aback by the anger he could see instead. And disgust.

'Why would we? You've got no place in our family anymore, Aidan. Why would we take you back to a house that's not your home anymore?'

All the things he had seen and endured in those 36 months, the slurs and hatred, sneering comments and disgust from other prisoners and goalers alike - the pain he’d got from those paled in comparison to what he felt now.

Aidan took a step back as if physically stricken, chapped lips parting on a inaudible gasp. His father didn’t meant this, they couldn’t just abandon him like that! Throwing him away like a used toy or dirty washcloth.

'I - you can't - I served my sentence! I paid for what I've done and I'm sorry I disappointed you, I told you before!'

The words were thick like oil in his mouth and he struggled to get them out. Aidan tried to take a deep breath, but his lungs felt like they were glued together. A wheezing sound escaped him and he blinked rapidly against tears forming in his eyes.

With a chocked sound, his mother moved. But instead of running down the few stairs to pull her son into her arms like she’d done when he was but a small child, she turned on her heels and disappeared into the house.

'It doesn't matter', Mr. Turner spat back, his body shaking with open anger now. Aidan took another step back. He'd never seen his father this outraged. Whatever foolish mistake he'd done in his teenage years, stupid decisions, whatever breach of the rules, never before had his parents reacted like that.

A cold hand closed around Aidan’s rapidly beating heart and ice dropped into his stomach.

They meant it. They really meant it.

'You're a shame to our family! How dare you even come near this house again! You don’t belong here anymore and you’re not our son.’

'But - I've nowhere to go! Dad, please, don't do this! I - don't even have money to buy food at the moment!'

His choked out words only fueled Mr. Turner’s rage.

'So, you've come here for money, is that it? I see. Stealing other people's properties, that's what you're good at now, aren't you? You got greedy in there! God, you disgust me so much!'

Horrified, Aidan wasn’t able to form words to defend himself, because deep down he knew he deserved this. All the anger, the hatred, the harsh words.

He deserved everything.

His father fumbled with his wallet for a moment, ripping out some notes.

'Here', he spat and threw them into the dirt to Aidan's feet. 'Take it. That's all you will get from us. Now leave and don't dare to come back again!'

With that, he turned around, slamming the door shut behind him.

Aidan stood there, rooted to the spot, staring at the door of the house that, until today, had been his home.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life goes on and we learn both Adam's and Aidan's crimes

He ends up calling Adam, although he swore not to.

Aidan’s reluctant about taking the money his father has thrown at him, but does so anyway, simply because he has no choice. He didn’t lie about the fact that he couldn’t even afford lunch at this point. He takes the bus to the city centre and steps into a kiosk with the letter that contains Adam’s mobile number.

Twenty minutes later, the Englishman arrives with the 24th and finds Aidan sitting on the sideway slowly getting soaked by the rain that’s steadily falling. He insists that the younger comes back to his place for the time being, accepting no argument.

'You are my friend, Aidan, and that's what friends are for.'

The Irishman manages to swallow his tears before they start falling just so. In return, he buys them lunch and while they’re sitting at Burgerking eating hamburgers and fries, Aidan tells him about his parents. It hurts, a dull, aching pain in his chest that will not go away within a day or two; maybe won’t for a long time. But it feels good to get this off his chest, to tell someone and Adam simply sits there and listens. There’s so much sympathy and understanding in his eyes and Aidan knows Adam’s not faking or pretending to understand how the Irishman feels; because he has experienced it himself. That’s the reason Adam still lives here in Dublin instead of moving back to his hometown, where his family lives.

Adam insists that Aidan comes to stay at his place, at least until he found something else. He does warn the Irishman of his two flat mates, ‘they are kind of weird, I know, but well, the rent’s cheaper that way and I don’t really have a choice, do I?’ and when they get to the run-down brick row house and climb the stairs into the stairhead and Adam opens the door, Aidan exactly knows what Adam means: his flat mates are slumped over in the living-room, empty pizza boxes and cans of lager flying around everywhere, smoking pot.

Adam’s on the verge of freaking out, until Aidan hauls him into his own small bedroom and slams the door behind them. ‘They’ve never done that before’, Adam states, pale as a sheet and trembling. He and Aidan had sworn to each other never to get involved into any illegal things, not even fare-beating. Aidan spends the night in a worn-down sleeping bag on the floor of Adam’s bedroom and the next morning, they start flat-hunting together.

It takes them almost a week until they get lucky. The neighbourhood may not be the best, but it’s also not the worst. It’s a house with only three flats, which is an improvement to the twelve-family-building Adam has lived in before. They get the top flat again, which is good because they don’t get bothered by the neighbours too much and the ceiling is decently isolated. The flat itself is small and crammed, but that’s not much of a problem either. Sadly enough, they are both used to minimal space and wouldn’t even know what to do with a lot of space if given it. The heating system is old, but working and there’s an old-fashioned water-boiling-system connected to the shower, but apart from that, the flat is more than okay.

Their landlord, an elderly chap called John Callen, doesn’t seem to mind their criminal past very much, simply tells them as long as they pay the rent on time and don’t pull any illegal pranks and such, it’s fine by him. Adam and Aidan assure him that they are in no way interested in getting into trouble either.

∞

The following weeks, Aidan found himself both swaying between happiness and distress. He’s happy because he is free now, he can do (almost) anything he wants, there’s no strict schedule ruling his day not giving him any choices. On the other hand, that’s what makes him distressed, too. Sometimes, he just feels forlorn and empty. He just doesn’t know what to do with all the time he’s given; and the different choices he has to make every day confuse him a lot.

It’s simple things Aidan’s sure other people don’t think about so much to begin with. When he gets up in the morning, he can choose whether he wants cereal or toast for breakfast and in the first days after his release from prison, he has a hard time to come to terms with that decision. It’s childish and pathetic, but he can’t help it. Inside, everything had been decided for him. There was a prescribed diet plan and every day, there were three meals every prisoner had to eat: breakfast, lunch and supper. There was a small amount of choice like if you wanted fries or noodles with your Salisbury steak on Thuesdays, there was always a vegetarian dish and if you preferred apple sauce over vanilla yoghurt for dessert that was no problem at all.

But there had been some limitation and as annoying as it was at the beginning, Aidan got used to it. They all did. It gave him a feeling of familiarity and somehow grounded him. It was part of his life and now - it was simply gone.

Aidan’s lucky he had Adam, who has faced the same problems Aidan currently has and because he’s been out longer, he knew how to make things easier. They kept the variety of food at their home at a minimum. Plus, Adam made sure Aidan never had to do the shopping alone in the first weeks. Because he knew the feeling of utter loss, standing in front of a whole shelf of shower gels, toothbrushes and bagged tea, having no idea what to do. It freaked him out back then and it freaked Aidan out now.

It got better with time, but each day was a slow fight for Aidan. Especially since it took him a while to get a job. That was another doom-loop that scared the hell out of Aidan: on the one hand he had to get a job in order to pay his part of the rent and groceries; on the other hand it wasn’t exactly easy, getting a job with a criminal record. Aidan had heard the horror stories of nobody wanting to hire a criminal, of being forced to acquire welfare and even that was sometimes not granted. And if you were lucky enough to get a job, even a shitty one like a cleaner or dishwasher, there were always the stares you were getting from your coworkers, even your boss. The disgust and despise. 

But Aidan had to swallow all that down and face this demon nonetheless; he really had no other choice. It took him a while, but in the end, he managed to get a job in a coffee shop midtown. It wasn’t ideal and Aidan had to work double shifts in order to earn enough money to get by, but that was alright. In fact, Aidan wouldn’t know what to do with the rest of his time anyway. He didn’t have to work late, too, with the coffee shop closing at six in the evening. Aidan was glad about not having to walk home late at night; downtown was an even less safer district than the one he was living in.

Despite being highly overqualified for this job, Aidan took it serious and he worked hard. He didn’t talk much with his coworkers, but he worked thorough and quick. Of course, as he had predicted, there were ugly glances and comments with barely held down voices when everyone found out he had been in prison for three years. That was, until one day his boss put his foot down, giving them a speech about how content he was with Aidan who was working at least instead of standing around gossiping all day.

It didn’t help the glances and disgusted looks, but at least they stopped talking about his past in front of the customers. Still, it was enough to make Aidan feel miserable and strangely lonely on his way home. Sure, he had Adam and he was forever grateful for his friend and flat mate. However, it made the young man incredibly sad that Adam would remain his only friend for sure. No one wanted to spend time with a criminal, let alone get friendly or close with one. They all kept their distance, as if the crimes and sins he had committed were contagious.

But in the end, it was what he deserved anyway.

Three months after his release, Aidan was climbing up the creaking stairs towards their flat after another long day of work. The coffee shop was in a rather busy area, which meant a lot of costumers on work days and Aidan came home utterly exhausted every day. His arms hurt to a point where he couldn’t lift them without being in pain and his feet ached from standing all day. The only consolation he got was the money he had earned today and the fact that he had made it through another day in his new life. Maybe it was silly, but Aidan celebrated every day that passed without any problems or trouble occurring.

When he opened the door, Sinatra’s voice floated through the flat, coming from their tiny kitchen. Something smelled incredibly good and Aidan sniffed curiously. Didn’t seem to one of the simple meals they mashed together every day. Most of the time, both Adam and Aidan were too tired to make something more difficult than a simple pasta sauce and noodles or some fried bacon and mashed potatoes. They were used to simple food and it was cheaper either way. There was only so much money they could spend on foods and drinks, so a couple of beers on the weekend was the only real luxury they got.

The flat had been ready-furnished, something the boys had been really grateful for. Sure, the bed frames were old and the mattresses in their separate bedrooms had seen better days, but again, they were used to much worse. Therefore, they didn’t feel the urge to buy any new furniture as long as the old was still usable; they preferred spending what money they could spare on things that made them happy: books or CDs for example, little things they cherished the more. The friends spent many an evening in the living-room together, listening to an LP one of them found at Camden Market the other day or reading out loud to each other like they had often done back in their shared cell.

These were the things important to them.

Carefully stepping out of his sneakers and placing them next to the door to clean them later, Aidan shut the door and flipped the two locks. Another thing they actually did spend money for was clothes. Adam had taught Aidan that the most important thing was appearance and the Irishman agreed wholeheartedly. Their clothes weren’t expensive labeled ones or really expensive, but they both always made sure those and their shoes were always clean and in a good shape.

Aidan walked towards the kitchen stretching, wincing when he heard the joints in his spine pop. Walking bent over to operate the different coffee machines most of the day wasn’t good for the body.

'Cheers, mate', he greeted Adam and stopped in the kitchen doorway. Although the word 'kitchen' was a exaggeration regarding the fact that this kitchen was so tiny only one person could stand in it. And Aidan, being taller than Adam, had to duck his head most of the time to prevent banging it on the roof slope. Adam turned around, turning the music down a little and smiled.

'Hey.'

One of the many things Aidan learned in prison, and actual useful thing from time to time was to read other person’s behaviour. And Adam had never been really good to hide how he felt anyway. So the Irishman realized instantly, that his flat mate was nervous. While he bustled around in the kitchen, the slender man kept avoiding Aidan’s gaze and babbled about his day instead. Adam tended to babble when he was nervous. Aidan had experienced that a lot of times, too.

'Something the matter, Ads?' He made sure to sound extra gentle, knowing how easily the shy Englishman got startled. Adam instantly blushed to the tip of his ears and nearly dropped the dishes he was holding.

'I - well, I…can I tell you during dinner?'

Aidan thought about that for a moment, then nodded. ‘Sure, why not? What did you make? Smells delicious.’

Adam seemed relieved that he had a little bit of reprieve and quickly took the change of subject.

'Lasagna, actually. Haven't made it in a long time and I thought…well, I thought today would be a good day for lasagna. Is this alright?'

Aidan shot him a smile.

'Sure 't is. Can't wait. How long?'

His friend craned his neck to look at the timer behind him. ‘Ah…fifteen minutes?’

'Well, not enough time for a shower, so I'll be in the living-room. Did you want me to set the table?'

He took the dishes from Adam and crossed the tiny hallway to enter their living-room. It was the biggest of the three rooms, but it wasn’t big enough for an actual dining table, so the boys always ate at the couch table. Not that any of them minded much.

'I uh - bought some wine, it's on the table. Could you open it?', came Adam's voice from behind Aidan. The Irishman had already seen the bottle sitting on the table and frowned. It wasn't the best on the market, but also not the cheap stuff they bought if they ever felt a craving for wine. Usually, they both preferred beer.

'Sure thing.'

It almost seemed like Adam wanted to celebrate something. While opening the bottle and searching for their best glasses - they didn’t have the luxury of wine-glasses - Aidan wracked his brain if he’d missed anything.

Was it Adam’s birthday? Aidan’s heart skipped a beat at that thought, because, well, that meant he didn’t have a present. But no, Adam’s birthday had been at the beginning of the year, when Aidan was still inside. He remembered Adam requesting an extra long visit at the prison, spending an hour with Aidan, chatting and eating the mini-cakes Adam had brought along. It had been a nice day indeed.

And since it wasn’t Aidan’s birthday either, he was at a loss of what the reason could be for Adam to spend so much money on their dinner today. Plus his nervousness.

Maybe Adam was planning to go back to England and trying to break the news gently?

Aidan froze mid-motion and nearly dropped the open wine-bottle. No. That could not be it. They had just moved in together, found a flat and jobs; and Adam always said he belonged here now, that he had nothing waiting for him there. Did he?

The icy feeling in his stomach remained, even as Adam carried the lasagna into the living-room, fussing about how he wasn’t sure if he got it right and it might have been in the oven a tad too long and such.

They ate in silence for a while, or rather, Adam ate while Aidan tried to will his hunger back. He had been starving on his way home, but now, with the uncertainty filling up his stomach, he wasn’t so keen on eating anymore.

'Does it taste that bad?' Adam finally asked, looking worried and crestfallen, fiddling with his napkin.

Aidan sighed and placed his fork on the table, running a hand through his curls like he always did when he was nervous.

'No, Ads, you know you're a fantastic cook. I'm just really knackered tonight, sorry 'bout that.'

'Oh. Okay.'

The silence was back for a long moment, until Adam sat up straighter and took another sip of wine.

'Actually, Aidan…there is something I want to talk to you about.'

Aidan swallowed dryly and tried to look interested and not like his whole world was about to shatter to pieces.

'Alright. Sure. You know you can talk to me about anything.'

Adam took a deep breath, releasing it with a ‘Woosh’-sound, exhaling a whole sentence with it: ‘Oneoftherestaurantswroteback, theywanttohireme.’

Aidan blinked stupidly. ‘I - I didn’t catch that, sorry. What?’

'One - one of the restaurants I applied for, to finish my apprenticeship? They - wrote me a letter, saying that they're willing to take me.'

'Really?!' It took a moment for Aidan so finally grasp what his friend was telling him, but when it did, a bright smile opened on his face.

'Oh my God, Adam, that's incredible! That's…Gosh, if anyone deserves this it's you, mate. Concratulations!' And he threw his arms around Adam's shoulders in a crushing hug.

'T-thanks, Aid. That's really nice of you.'

Adam righted the glasses on his nose, before taking out the letter to show it to Aidan.

There it was, in black and white: the owner of a restaurant called Grasper & Keeper was willing to take over Adam’s half finished apprenticeship as a chef.

'I couldn't believe it at first, so I googled them, but it's a real restaurant and they have the right to instruct chefs, it's all legal. I can finish my dream job, that's…'

There were tears in Adam’s eyes and Aidan hugged him again. He knew how much this meant to his friend. Adam had been in the middle of his apprenticeship as a chef, when he’d been sentenced. It had been his own fault and foolishness, Adam never denied that.

Five years for movie piracy. It had indeed been foolish, laying his future on the line for a bit of seemingly easy earned money. But Adam would never been this reckless and dumb again; Castlerea Prison had ensured that.

So even after being released, Adam had given up actually being able to finish his training. After all, who’d hire an ex-con? But apparently, there was justice on this world; for Aidan had never doubted his friend deserved having a second chance. Adam had paid for his mistakes and now, he should be allowed to move on, as normally as possible. And now, he had the possibility to do exactly that.

'Brilliant, Adam. When are you starting?'

'They invited me for Saturday…and I was wondering if you could come along. Just in case it's…a joke or something.'

Aidan nodded. ‘Sure, just tell me when you’ve got the appointment and I’ll be coming along with you.’

He’s happy for his friend, no doubt about that. And he’s grinning and bearing it for the rest of the evening, although the fact that his best mate has found a way to continue his earlier life and he hasn’t wears heavily on him.

But he keeps it together, for Adam’s sake. Until they’ve drained the wine bottle and Aidan was back in his own room. He opened his window and climbed out on the fire escape, lighting up a cigarette. It’s the only bad habit he couldn’t get rid off after his time in prison, but Adam didn’t want him to smoke inside the flat.

Leaning back against his window frame, Aidan looked up at the night sky. He knew he should be happy for Adam, but he also felt jealous and strangely hopeless. Adam had gotten another chance; and Aidan knew that he himself would never get another chance.

The difference between his friend and himself was that Adam’s crime wasn’t connected to his work. Hence, he could continue working in restaurants if the owner was generous enough.

Aidan didn’t have that luxury. He had finished his apprenticeship as a business consulter before he’d gotten arrested. But he’d never be able to work in this business branch again.

Aidan had been sentenced for fraud and data theft, having stolen important, secret information from his former employer. Like Adam, he’d never denied his crime; he had stolen the data.

But nobody bothered asking why he had done so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you’re not too disappointed by how ‘small’ Adam’s and Aidan’s crimes are…meaning, they didn’t actually murder someone or something. Anyway…
> 
> This got longer than I intended to, but there was no better way to cut it really. So, something longisher^^
> 
> And in the next part we will finally meet Dean *yay*
> 
> PS: Any ideas who’s the owner of the restaurant Adam applied to? Yeah, I know, it’s kinda obvious ;)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Adam gets lucky and Aidan loses hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you soo much for all your lovely comments, I'm overwhelmed as to how well this story is received :) thank you, thank you, thank you, every single one of you lovelies! You put a huge smile on my face every time I read your thoughts about this!

For most people, Sunday was their free day every week, at least in the services sector. In gastronomy, things were a little different, but the people working there still had a free day guaranteed. For Aidan, this free day was Wednesday. It was nice, actually, having the day in the middle of the week for himself, especially since he mostly worked at the weekend, too. Most of the time, though, Aidan had no idea what to do with his free time.

His colleagues often moaned about the work, about how fed up they were with it and how they longed for their free day; but Aidan liked working. It kept him occupied and stopped his thoughts from wandering too much. There wasn’t exactly much he wanted to remember of his most recent past. Also, working got him money and he needed that.

Today however is Wednesday and Aidan is at a complete loss at what to do with all this free time. He busies himself with cleaning the flat, but that only occupies him during the morning. Then Aidan does some laundry, listening to the radio while neatly folding the clothes and bed sheets; he even cleans the bathroom top to bottom. After that, it’s midday and he has nothing else to do.

The post arrives and Aidan’s sorting it, frowning when he realizes a certain envelope. It’s addressed to him, thick writing paper with the logo of a company that seems strangely familiar. Aidan squints his eyes and tries to remember where he’s seen it before. It finally dawns on him when he pours himself a cup of tea: it’s one of the companies he applied for.

That’s another thing Aidan did only do because Adam wanted it: ever since they moved into their shared flat, they apply for every job ad that fits their training, every single one. Of course they have to add a copy of their criminal record to the applications and therefore they’re always met with refusals. But Adam insists they keep on trying and his best argument of course is his own success. If he hadn’t applied to every tiny advertisement, he’d never got the job at the Grasper & Keeper.

The letter had indeed been real; four weeks ago, Aidan had accompanied his friend on his way to the given address, just in case it would be a fake and he needed back-up. The restaurant is in one of the business districts, surrounded by doctors, lawyers and other companies which is great because many people grab their lunch there or come for a pint and snack after work.

Once they entered the main room, they asked one of the waiters for a man called Graham McTavish who seemed to own this place. When said man appeared, both Aidan and Adam had to suppress the impulse to take a step backwards. Mr. McTavish was a tall man with broad shoulders and a scowl that could freeze you to death in an instance. He nearly crushed both their hands in a hand-shake and finally demanded to know which one was Adam; Aidan had to physically push his friend forward because he looked ready to turn on his heels. Turned out that McTavish wasn’t as frightening as their first impression had been. He talked with a calm voice, nodding when Adam shyly mentioned the letter he had gotten and suggested to show him around. He also invited Aidan to sit and wait for his friend with a drink on the house. Adam had been nervous about being alone with that big guy, but when he returned fifteen minutes later, he seemed a lot calmer.

For the first days into his new job, Adam always reckons he’ll be fired again, that one morning, Graham’s going to enter the kitchen and tell him that, sorry, there had been a mistake and he’d have to leave now. Because he simply can’t figure out why someone wants to hire a criminal, no matter how much time he spends on pondering about it (and rambling to Aidan every evening, too, until Aidan’s ears are sore). He finally discovers the reason for McTavish’s kindness two weeks into the job: his boss has been to prison as well. Most of the other staff members have, by the way.

Adam doesn’t ask Graham what he has been sentenced for, of course; but he finds out eventually: his boss beat up the asshole who raped his sister – that’s what James, the barman, told Adam anyways, regardless if that’s the truth or not. After being released, Graham was confronted with the same problems Adam and Aidan were amongst so many others: no employment, funny looks, disgust and disrespectful behavior. It’s understandable of course. Committing a crime is dreadful and non-excusable and ex-cons don’t deserve much pity or mercy. But still, treating every criminal like a mass-rapist or murderer is not the right way, either. Neither Aidan nor Adam try to shy away from their punishment or downplay what they’ve done; but they do want a chance in life, a chance to get back to their feet and make a living.

So, Graham who is a trained chef and couldn’t find an employment as well, decided to open his own restaurant at some point. And because he understands the problems the newly-released have, he provides them with jobs; not only criminals of course, but the majority. Naturally, it doesn’t always work out because old habits die hard and unreliable persons mostly stay unreliable. Graham’s strict, he has to be. But if folks are willing and working good, he keeps them and they are grateful. James for example tends to the bar for six years now, he’s the only one who stayed from the original crew, along with Graham himself of course.

Knowing that many of his coworkers and his boss have been inside, too, helps Adam relax immensely. He hits it on really well, finding back into work routine in no time. And he’s having fun at work, really enjoys working with Graham and the rest of the kitchen staff. Becoming a chef was his life dream after all and now, finally, he can achieve it. When he comes home in the evenings, he’s radiating content and happiness. And Aidan’s happy for him, he really is. But he’s also a little bit jealous and that’s why he feels bad; because this is Adam’s big chance and he doesn’t need Aidan’s envy.

Due to Adam’s new job they don’t see each other that often, too. Aidan works over the day mostly, but the restaurant has an early and a late shift and the employees rotate shifts every week. So every fortnight, Aidan’s alone in the evenings. And he doesn’t like that one bit. He doesn’t say so, of course; working as a chef means working late every now and then. The Grasper & Keeper has warm kitchen until 10 pm and since the chefs also do the dishes, Adam’s mostly home around midnight. By then, Aidan’s already on his way to bed because he has to get up in the morning himself; they mostly exchange a few words and that’s it. For Aidan, it’s not easy, being alone after work. He’s annoying himself with it, because really, he’s not a five-year-old who needs constant looking-after.

But the thing is, Aidan has never really been alone in his life. When he was a kid and teenager, there had always been his family, first Mom and Pops, later his brother and sister. There had always been someone at the house, up to a point where Aidan had wished to be alone at some point during his daily routine, especially in his teens. During his apprenticeship, he’d lived with two other trainees, a boy and a girl; and even during his time in prison, he’d never been alone either. First sharing a cell with Adam and after he’d been released, another young man around his age had come in for the remaining months.

Aidan didn’t know how to be alone and it scared him. He tried to occupy himself by cleaning the flat – they probably did have the cleanest flat in the whole neighbourhood – or listening to music. He started buying more books on Camden Market, but there was only so much time he could spend reading a day. The rest of the time he laid on his bed and staring at the ceiling, wandering to the kitchen occationally to make himself some tea.

Aidan hated being alone. It got him thinking and that was not good at all.

The first few days, Aidan often went to the restaurant in the evening, just because he couldn’t bear a silent flat. But he can’t do that every night, he simply hasn’t the money for that. He still eats lunch at Graham’s place sometimes; mostly, because the food is delicious and the atmosphere is nice. And he gets discount on both food and drinks; it’s a habit Graham’s established over the years, Adam found out. Every ex-con he knows who comes to the place gets his food and drinks for two-to three Euros less. Simply, because Graham knows how tight money is for those people and he included both Adam and Aidan into that system naturally. Aidan remembers the first time Graham charged him with less money; he’d thought the other made a mistake, but Graham had put him down gruffly, but not unfriendly.

‘It’s okay, laddie. I know you can use every extra Euro and I’ll not get poor if you pay me two coins less.’

Aidan wanted to protest, but James behind the bar had waved it off.

‘No chance. He’s not going to change his mind, so just accept it, mate. It’s like that with every ex-con he knows. Don’t be offended though, he just wants to help.’

So Aidan accepted it, if reluctantly.

∞

Turning the letter in his hands, Aidan chews on his lower lip and thinks hard about what to do. He glances towards the clock. Adam’s working early ship this week, but he has at least another two hours until he finishes. But Aidan can’t wait that long. Making a decision, he takes his tea cup to the kitchen and grabs his sneakers and jacket. He doesn’t want to open the letter alone. It will be another refusal, no doubt about that; and considering his mood these days, he will get really depressed over another rejection.

If he opens the letter in Adam’s company, maybe his friend will finally see reason and will stop making Aidan write those applications.

It’s simply in vain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks again to all those who read this, leaving kudos or comments, it’s much appreaciated and I really hope you are enjoying it :)
> 
> Now, on notes to that chapter: I know I promised an appearance of Dean, but somehow this got way longer than I inteded, so I had to split it. I could’ve posted it as a whole chapter, but I’d rather like to keep the posts short and ficlet-stylish, not real chapters. I think it’s also easier to read here on tumblr. 
> 
> As the story is on AO3 as well, I might add this ficlet and the next one as one chapter, but we’ll see about that.
> 
> Now, to those who kindly answered my help-regard as to how the Grasper & Keeper could look like, thank you again, you really had the most wonderful suggestions and I’m going to use the most of that in the next bit, when there will be a detailed description of the restaurant at last. It just didn’t seem to fit in here.
> 
> Anything else?
> 
> Oh, yes, if you want to drop a comment, feel free to do so, I’d love to read what you think about this fic :) also, if you got questions or anything, my ask box is always open, so feel free to drop by on my tumblr-account http://dancingintherain-allnight.tumblr.com/ :)
> 
> As this fic is in the making and I’m kind of writing whenever the mood strikes me, I can’t say when the next bit will be online…but I’m positive it won’t take very long!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Aidan loses control over the situation & there might be a glimpse of hope

The restaurant is relatively empty when Aidan arrives; only two of the tables are occupied by elderly couples having lunch. Every time the Irishman walks in, he can’t help but admire the place. From the outside it’s nothing special, really. The building is one of those multi-purpose complexes with a restaurant at the ground floor and several offices above it. The place is a good choice for a restaurant. The offices close late in the afternoon, and the building is then empty save for the restaurant, so there won’t be any complaints about too loud music or customers standing outside for a smoke after six. 

Graham had done some major renovation works after he bought the premises, so the place doesn’t look at all like those fancy, modern, sterile offices that sit on the top floors of the building. Where there has been a number of walls before, separating the room into many small compartments, they have been torn down to create one large, open space under a low, open beam ceiling resting on thick wooden posts. Heart pine paneling covers three of the four walls. The rich, burnt-orange colour and the natural finish of the wood create a rustic, earthy atmosphere.

The fourth wall is a solid, red brick wall and that’s also the wall the bar is placed against, made of wood a shade darker than the wall-panels. A large, open fireplace at the opposite wall reflects the red of the bricks, and the floor is covered in cozy, plush carpeting of a deep, dark red. The curtains are simple, dark-red as well, accentuating the slightly antiquated, homely feeling of the room. Behind the fireplace is a little separate area with a big bordeaux-coloured leather sofa, accompanied by two chandeliers of polished silver. Graham chose the room’s decoration well: framed pictures hang scattered across the walls, most of them fading sepia photographs of early Dublin, tastefully mixed with scenery and genre paintings, mostly hunting parties, foxes and the like. 

It’s perfect for a steakhouse, Aidan thinks. This crude, unsophisticated mix of outdated and working class combined with hunting trophies and some selected prized possessions, it’s brilliant because the patron’s focus is automatically drawn to the small details that serve to make the restaurant classy nonetheless: pristine white table covers, polished candleholders, the cutlery silver-plated and elegant as well. Chairs covered in expensive wine coloured upholstery, and the rooms glows in a soft orange light.

Also, both the waiters and the boss himself wear black dress pants and white shirts with standing collars; Graham always making sure everyone looks elegant and behaves absolutely respectable. Even though interior and a first, superficial impression may suggest otherwise, this is a restaurant rather than a rowdy pub. Customers love the mixture, and business is not likely to die down any time soon.James is at the bar, as most of the times and he greets Aidan with a big smile.

'Aidan! Nice to see ya. The usual?'

The brunet smiles back and nods. 'Yeah, thanks, James.'

A moment later, James sets down his drink: soda, limejuice and ginger-ale with a hint of grenadine sirup. Aidan still remembers the look on James' face when he had requested the drink; it's not everyone's taste, the Irishman knows that, but sometimes he needs something else than a simple Guinness or lager. It's his own recipe and by now, Graham's actually considering taking it on the menu. He's just now found a name yet.

'You waiting to take your better half home?' James winks and Aidan rolls his eyes at the older man while he takes a seat at the bar. 

'Ha ha, Nesbitt, that's a new one, where did you pick it up? Micky Mouse?'

For the first few days, most of the Grasper&Keeper staff was convinced Aidan and Adam were a couple, until they had finally put an end to the rumors and cleared things up. Yes, they both were gay, but no, they weren't an item, just friends. By looks alone, they simply are too similar to be attracted to each other. 

When you spent 18 months sharing minimal space, you can't help but talk, about literally everything. Of course, Aidan had been wary at first. Lesson number one in prison: don't trust easily. While their crimes were not enough to put them in one district with murderers and rapists, there still were unpleasant characters locked up with them. And people tended to get bored in prison, so they search for weaknesses to pick on people, make them mentally unstable - just to beat some time or for their own pleasure, depending on their character. Aidan learned the hard way to keep his mouth shut most of the time and only speak about private things with persons you absolutely trust. Adam was that person for him. 

During one of his first nights inside, it all came down to Aidan: his desperation, the shame, the looks of disgust on his parents' faces - he felt utterly alone and after a rather unpleasant incidence during shower time this afternoon, Aidan simply broke. He'd spent the better part of that night crying instead of sleeping. The next morning had been horror, the young man so emotionally tired and bled out he barely registered what happened around him. That evening, when they had to return to their cells, the guy he shared with had brought him a book back from the library. He didn't say much, just handed him the book and turned towards his own bed to get ready for sleep. 

Aidan had been confused and a little angry, but since he didn't know anything else to do, he'd thanked the man and started reading. That was the start of his unique friendship with Adam.

It took some more months to build up trust between them, but it worked. They started sitting together at meal times, staying close each other in the shower (just in case); they still didn't talk to each other for a few more weeks and spent their evenings reading in silence, but it was a pleasant silence. Eventually, they made conversation about casual things and from there, things went on easily. Aidan still remembered the night he confessed to Adam that he was gay.

The Englishman had never looked so serious than he had back then.

'That's okay, Aidan. But let me tell you this: don't talk to anyone about it. If you want to have a quiet life in here, don't let them know. Please.'

Later, Aidan found out why he'd best keep his mouth shut. Not himself, thank God, but a fellow cellie who didn't have a friend like Aidan to tell him what he should talk about and what not. It had been a lesson that didn't need repeating.

Sure, if you spend as much time together as Aidan and Adam had, there had to be a point where the thought simply enters your mind. And this had been the case with Aidan and Adam as well; but they agreed fast that no, they wouldn't work as a couple, only as friends. 

Well, Aidan couldn't really blame people who thought otherwise: they live together after all and while they aren't running around telling everyone and their mothers about their sexual preferences, they don't have girlfriends either. So rumors came up naturally, but neither Adam nor Aidan don't care much. Mostly because they could tell that the G&K people don't mean anything by it; and they are teasing each other as well. It's a restaurant-crew-thing, apparently, but not in an unpleasant way. 

Not like at Aidan's workplace. 

'At least he has someone to wait for him at home', comes a voice behind Aidan, pulling him from his thoughts.

Jed, one of the waiters, saunters by, carrying a tray with meals to one of the two taken tables further back in the restaurant. Aidan grins while James flips Jed off, grumbling under his breath. On his way back, Jed stops again and pats Aidan on the back.

'Boyo's almost finished back there. You want a snack or something?'

He unloads the empty glasses he brought back from the table and shoves them in James' direction.

'Hmm...yeah, actually. Dry tomato, cream cheese and olive sandwich?'

Jed salutes. 'Right away, Sir.'

'Oi', James calls after him when he makes his way to the kitchen again, 'what about me?!'

'You can get your lazy arse over here and take your food yourself, old man'.

Sputtering, James ogles after his colleague while Aidan hides his laughter in his drink. 

'Would you believe that? Disrespectful little...'

Muttering obscenities under his breath, James sets on cleaning the glasses. While he waits for his sandwich, Aidan chews on his nails absentmindedly. The envelope burns a hole in his jeans pocket and he's torn between opening it right now or wait for moral support in form of Adam. He's re-deciding by the minute now, when Graham himself appears from the back area, making his way over to the few customers for a little chat. He always does that, asking if everything's alright, if they needed more wine, if the food was good and the such. It's nice, but mostly, it's just Graham checking if he can improve anything in his holy temple.

'Snoopy bastard', James mutters and grabs Aidan's empty glass, refilling it without even asking, but there's a lazy grin on his face when he says it. Aidan raises his eyebrows in question and the elder shrugs.

'He's only there for the gossip, trust me. You thought those Irish wishwifes are the worst when it comes down to chitchat? Wrong. That man over there. He knows everything going on in Dublin, no shit.'

'Hmm...good to know.'

Aidan takes a sip of his refill, watching Graham disappearing in the kitchen again and coming back with a plate. He's more than a bit startled when the massive burger on the plate is placed in front of him.

'Err...I didn't...'

'Shut your pretty mouth and eat', is Graham's gruff response as he slides in the barstool next to Aidan. 'I experimented with the chili sauce a bit, so let me know what ya think.'

And he gives Aidan a thump on the back that nearly sends him face-first in the burger.

James rolls his eyes at his boss. 'He's been force feeding everyone all day. The whole shift can't see chili sauce for at least a week or something.'

Doesn't stop him from stealing a few of Aidan's chips. 

Aidan's still not too sure what to do when Jed pops up beside him, another plate in his hands, shooting his boss an annoyed look.

'I thought I'd bring him his actual order.'

The glare bounces off Graham like a ball of a wall.

Now, Aidan is faced with both a monstrous burger and a sandwich and he's secretly glad he didn't have lunch already. Not finishing a meal at the Grasper&Keeper is synonymous with being the only Shelbourne FC fan in a pub full of Bohemians when the FCs winning - positively deadly. 

He starts eating and tries to ignore the sideway-glances Graham keeps shooting him, clearly waiting for his judgment. Luckily, the few customers still seated at the tables want to pay and Graham saunters over; it’s always him who brings the checks, not because he doesn’t trust his waiters, but because he wants to have a final confirmation if everything was okay and simply because this way, the waiters can concentrate on taking up orders and delivering meals.

Aidan swallows his bite and when Graham returns to his side, Adam’s slipping out from the back, cheeks rosy and hair a mess due to the kitchen’s fumes, but he looks content nonetheless. 

‘So, whatcha think?’

Aidan swallows another bite of burger and nods. 

‘The chili’s good, but there something in there that stands out. Some spice that’s too much…’

He tries to find the right name, but he’s really terrible with spices. Is it Estragon? Thyme? He has literally no idea. Aidan shoots Adam a look that clearly calls for help and as always, his friend comes to the rescue.

‘I thought so myself, I guess there’s a tad too much cumin. It’s not everybody’s thing’, he pipes up and shrugs sheepishly. Graham looks at him for a moment, thoughtfull.

‘Hmm. Yes, you’re right. Well, less cumin it is, then.’ And he pulls out a piece of paper, obviously the recipe and writes it down.

Adam stands by Aidan’s side.

‘Hey! Didn’t know you wanted to pick me up? Everything alright?’

Aidan takes a quick look around. He planned to do this in private, not with half of the Grasper&Keeper staff present. But well, can’t be helped. With a deep breath, he takes out the envelope he has brought. 

‘I – didn’t want to open this alone.’ He lifts the thick paper and Adam shoots him a curious look.

‘What’s that?’ ‘That’s another refusal, Adam. And I just…’

Aidan closes his eyes for a moment and breaths deeply again.

‘I’m just tired of this, you know? I’m glad this method worked out for you, Ads, I really am. You can live your dream, get your apprenticeship done and everything. But I…’

He vaguely registers that everyone around them is listening by now. 

‘There won’t be a change like that for me, Adam. What you did – it didn’t affect your work. But it did with me. So, there is absolutely no chance someone will offer me a job in the branch I used to work with. And every time I send out one of these applies I allow myself just this tiny bit of hope – that’s shattered the moment I open the refusal. It’s just too much. I can’t deal with that anymore.’

Aidan takes another deep breath, eyes fixed on his friend as if to will him to understand. The hope coming with every sent out job-apply and the disappointment afterwards, it’s more than Aidan can handle emotionally. Sure, Adam’s always there to give him a pat on the back and try to cheer him up, but he’s not the one hearing his father’s voice echoing in his head.

You’re a shame for the family, what you’ve done destroyed any reputation your mother and I worked so hard for! How could you do that to us, did you ever think about anyone besides yourself and your greed? You’re a failure and I’m ashamed I fathered you.

There’s only so much Aidan can handle of that.

‘But what if…’

‘No!’ Aidan nearly slams his hand on the table. He’s getting both angry and irritated by now. Why can’t Adam just give it a break? Why can’t he see how much Aidan’s hurting?

To his surprise, it’s Jed that pipes up first, looking surprisingly serious.

‘Let it go, Adam. You can’t force things to happen. And you have to accept that Aidan doesn’t want to do this anymore. For some of us, there’s no dream-job waiting around the corner. We have to make-do with whatever job we can get and that’s the end of it.’

Aidan vaguely remembers that Jed used to be a journalist, specialized in traveling, and quite successful at that. After he served his sentence, however, no magazine or paper would hire him and so, in the end, he was lucky enough to get this job as a waiter in Graham’s restaurant. But he misses travelling a lot, one can tell sometimes; being stuck in one working-place day in, day out is extremely hard if you’re used to seeing the world and being at a different place every day.

Adam huffs, but stands down for the moment. Aidan continues eating, feeling guilty now for cutting his friend off. But he needs a break. Life outside still is very overwhelming most of the days and more often than not, Aidan gets confused because everything’s way over his head.

He finishes the burger and half of the sandwich in silence, the men around him starting a conversation about rugby. They have nothing to do at the moment until the late shift arrives and since there are no customers to be served, they simply relax and chat for a while.

Eventually, Adam tries again.

‘So, will you at least open that envelope?’

There’s a glare sent his way and he quickly holds up both hands in surrender. 

‘Don’t bite my head off, I’m just curious. It’ll be the last time, I swear.’

Aidan sighs and hands his empty plates to Jed who brings them to the kitchen. Now, everyone else is looking at Aidan again, who rolls his eyes.

‘Some privacy, please?’

Hopping down from his barstool, Aidan wanders further into the restaurant, pausing by the fireplace that’s not lit at this time of the year. Again, he turns the envelope in his hands for a good long moment and sighs. An ugly feeling’s sinking down into the pit of his stomach. 

He’d love to work in advertisement again, how he used to before his time in prison. It is his dream-job and he’s been really good at it, too, judging from the grades he’s got from his former bosses. Having a job one enjoys is important and rare at the same time, and Aidan had both of that. Until he royally fucked up.  
Graham, Adam, Jed and James go back to discussing the rugby-matches from last weekend, Jed and James arguing about their favorite teams until there’s a somewhat choked noise coming from the direction of the fire-place. They all turn at that.

‘Aidan?’

The Irishman stands with his back towards them, shoulders hunched up. Adam’s eyes are wide and Graham makes a hesitant step forward, concerned for the younger.

‘What’s up, mate?’

When Aidan faces them slowly, his face has the colour of fresh milk and his hands are shaking. He opens his mouth to say something, once or twice, until he manages to get some words out.

‘It’s…it’s an invitation.’ His voice shakes so much it’s barely audible. 

Adam claps a hand over his mouth and James makes a noise between disbelieve and a question.

‘An invitation for what?’

Adam ignores the barman, he’s already on his way towards Aidan, excitedly snatching the piece of paper from his hands. 

‘For a job interview? They really want to meet you?’

Aidan’s not sure if his legs are going to give out, so he walks towards the next chair and collapses in it. By now, everyone’s rushing to the middle of the room, even James abandoning the bar to get a look. 

‘What’s it for?’

‘A real job interview, in his profession?’

‘You sure it’s not a joke?’

They all chatter at once fussing over the letter, but Aidan registers nothing of that. His mind’s a rollercoaster right now. Why would anyone give him a chance? He’s unreliable, has stolen secret company data before – who says he won’t do it again? Well, he knows he won’t do it again, but the companies’ bosses don’t and it’s their right to be suspicious. Why would anyone hire him despite what he’s done?

Suddenly there are arms around Aidan’s neck where Adam all but threw himself on him, hugging him so tight he’s afraid he’d cracked a few rips. Then there are hearty back-pats from Jed, James and Graham and Aidan vaguely hears Graham announce a round on the house, James already on his way to the bar to retrieve the booze.

Everything feels like Aidan’s seeing it in slow-time and through fog. The lads are talking at once again, musing about the boss who’s so generous to give second chances, maybe he’s been inside as well? Or he simply has a great heart? Or or or?

Or it’s simply a joke, Aidan thinks to himself. Funny, how this was Adam’s first assumption as well and here he is; but that’s exactly the point – there’s no way in hell that both his best friend and Aidan can be so lucky to land jobs within their professions despite their past.   
It simply can’t be.

A glass is shoved into Aidan’s hand and everyone’s smiling, Graham giving a toast along the lines of ‘To justice’ and ‘the job-boy’ and they all look so pleased and happy that Aidan doesn’t have the heart to remind them that technically he doesn’t have the job yet and he probably won’t.

He gives them a small smile and downs the whiskey instead.

‘So, when’s the date anyway?’ James pipes up eventually and Adam scrambles for the letter again.

‘Friday. Oh, that’s soon!’ He turns towards his flat mate again. ‘Do you have a suit?’

Aidan’s mind refuses to process anything right now, it seems like it’s just shut down momentarily. 

‘What?’

‘A suit, Aidan, you need some nice clothes for the interview! First impression always sales, you know that.”

‘No. No, I don’t have a suit.’

Panic adds itself to the jelly that’s his brain.

Jed’s already waving his hand dismissingly. 

‘No problem, lads, there’s a friend of mine who’s a tailor in town. He always has some ready-made stuff available in his shop and if I put in a good word for you, he’ll make some changes overnight. It’s an emergency after all, isn’t it?’

He glances towards the clock on the wall.

‘And his shop’s still open, so if we hurry…’

Adam’s already grabbing his jacket, motioning for his co-worker to do the same.

‘But – your shift’s not even finished yet, you can’t just both pop out and –‘

Aidan sends Graham a helpless look but the bear of a man’s already shaking his head.

‘Getting you ready for you interview is more important than a few dirty dishes. Next shift can do them as well. Off you go, Aidan, that’s you big chance and you’re not going to cock it up!’

‘But –‘

‘No but’s!’ And with that, Graham’s gently pushing him towards the door where Jed and Adam are already busy discussing which bus they have to take into city-centre to reach Jed’s friend as fast as possible.

‘That’s what friends are for, Aidan.’

And the Irishman helplessly lets himself be pulled along outside the restaurant, having no idea what exactly is happening right now. 

∞

Friday morning finds Aidan standing in front of a business building in the middle of the business district that also inherits the Grasper&Keeper. Well, at least he doesn’t have to walk far to get pissed after he found out someone’s having a really nasty sense of humor and only shit him with the interview invitation.  
He has a hard time to believe it, but that tailor-friend of Jed’s actually managed to get him a good-looking and well-fitting suit practically overnight. He looks presentable, if not good; way better than if he’d be wearing one of the readymade suits some stores have. Adam advanced him the money because with his small barista-budget, Aidan can’t afford a suit without saving money for months first.

Taking a deep breath, Aidan enters the building and pushes the elevator’s button to the third floor. There are several doors leading to different offices and he rings at the one with the label ‘O’Gorman Advertisement’. Here we go then.

A woman opens the door, petite with blonde hair cut fashionable. She’s pretty if you don’t count in the scowl she’s currently wearing. She’s practically glaring at Aidan through squinted eyes.

‘Ahm’, Aidan stutters, ‘I’m Aidan Turner, I got a letter…?’

‘Yes, I somehow figured out who you are’, the woman spits and lets him in reluctantly, eyeing him from top to toe. Aidan can feel his nervousness getting the better of him again. It’s painfully clear she’s not too fond of him being here.

‘I’ll tell Mr. O’Gorman you’re here.’

She points to a couch in the corner and leaves the room through another door without any further comment.

Well.

Going fantastic so far.

Aidan buries his head in his hands and exhales. He’s about two minutes away from just leaving when the door opens again and the woman comes back.  
‘Mr. O’Gorman’s awaiting you’, she says sharply and with a peeved edge to her voice.

Aidan stands and follows her into a second room. 

There’s a large desk standing at the far end of the room, back to the big windows overlooking the neighbourhood, a set of plush chairs and a sidetable in the corner (probably for more comfortable discussions with customers) and one enormous betel palm standing in a corner

Aidan registers all that with one glance and then focuses on the man standing up from his chair behind the desk. He’s a little shorter than Aidan – but well, he is rather tall – with blond hair and blue eyes. He wears a grey suit that clearly costs twice as much as Aidan’s and fits him like a second skin.

When he round the desk and walks towards them, a genuine smile opens on his face, showing off his dimples.

Aidan swallows.

Fuck, that man’s gorgeous. If he met him in a bar he’d definitely hit on him.

Only they aren’t in a bar but at a job interview and this man seems to be the company’s boss.

‘Good to see you, Mr. Turner.’ The man extends a hand that Aidan shakes. Firm handgrip despite their petitness. Fuck.

‘I’m Dean O’Gorman and the head of our small establishment.’

His smile is almost shy and Aidan makes himself stop staring at those lips and dimples and instead kick starts his brain into action.

‘Aidan Turner. Nice to meet you.’

There’s a small cough from behind him and Mr. O’Gorman’s smile falters and gives way to a small frown.

‘Yes, Fern? Is there something you need to say?’

He lets go of Aidan’s hand and turns towards the lady.

Obviously, there are a lot of things she wants to say.

‘Sir, with all respect, I still don’t think this is a good idea.’ She shoots Aidan a look that’s almost disgust. ‘You’ve seen this man’s record and clearly there are more competent people to…’

Mr. O’Gorman stops her with a raised hand.

‘I am well aware of that, Fern. Still, I’m not going to tell you my reasons for this interview again, so if you’d please be a dear and make us some coffee.’  
The dismissal is clear despite his friendly tone and Fern seems to realize that too. With a last gloomy look towards Aidan, she huffs and leaves the room, closing the door behind her.

‘I’m sorry, Mr. Turner. Shall we start?’


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Mr. O’Gorman makes Aidan an offer he can’t resist…and not everybody is happy about that

Clasping his hands together to keep from fidgeting around nervously, Aidan takes his place in the chair in front of Mr. O’Gorman’s desk. The blond man rounds the table and takes up his own seat again, shuffling through some papers momentarily. Aidan watches him, his nerves up in his throat by now. He has done interviews before (before he spent three years behind bars that is) and God knows he should be used to dealing with much more intimidating and complicated situations like this (again, because of the ‘behind bars’-time). The problem is, Aidan hasn’t informed himself about the company Mr. O’Gorman owns. He just assumed it would be false alarm anyway, that when he came here this morning they would tell him there was a mix-up or a joke or whatever. He never expected this interview to actually happen in the first place. Except now, it does. And he has no background information whatsoever.

Mr. O’Gorman seems to have sorted his papers and he puts them down, shooting Aidan another genuine smile.

‘Sorry about that, Mr. Turner. Now we’re good to go.’ The smile disappears and is replaced by an earnest expression, the blond eyebrows furrowing slightly as he concentrates on the task at hand. 

‘First of all, I’m very glad you followed my invitation, I was a bit worried it would be too short-notice. There’s a reason for that, actually, I don’t want you thinking I’m usually searching for new employees last minute.’

Another small smile and Aidan swallows and tries to find words. ‘It’s alright. I…it wasn’t a problem, Sir.’

He’s glad his voice isn’t shaking with nerves; one of the many things Aidan learned inside was adapting a poker-face, keeping his face completely neutral, not letting show any of the thoughts inside. 

Mr. O’Gorman regards him for a long moment and there’s something in his eyes Aidan can’t place. It makes him nervous. He has no idea what he’s doing here, how this man can even take him into consideration for whatever job this is. Maybe he didn’t read the papers attached to Aidan’s application? 

The door opens and the blonde assistant shuffles in again, carrying a plate with two coffee cups. She sets one down on front each of them, shoots Aidan another glare and leaves again without saying a word. Her boss must have seen the look, because as soon as the door closes behind her, he grimaces slightly and sighs.

‘I apologize for her behavior, it’s just – she’s a little bit skeptical about me considering to employ a man with your – past.’

Ah. So he did read Aidan’s file to the end. The Irishman doesn’t comment, just looks at the man in front of him with a calm expression.

Mr. O’Gorman shifts a little in his seat, showing something like unease for the first time since Aidan stepped into his office.

‘I want to be honest with you, Mr. Turner. The crime you were sentenced for doesn’t recommend you for a job in the same area you’ve been working before, as you very well know, I’m sure. And I’m very well aware of the danger I’m putting my company in by eventually employing you – that’s nothing personal, of course.’

Aidan nods automatically. Of course it’s nothing personal, he sneers internally. But the other man searches his face for a moment, as if he’s trying to make sure Aidan understands his point. Like it really isn’t meant personally and not just a phrase bosses throw around.

‘’The problem is: I don’t really have much of a choice.’ 

Aidan raises an eyebrow. He’s even more confused than he was before. This is not like any interview he’s done before. Isn’t he supposed to be answering questions? To be tested on his knowledge and skill, if he’s fit to take up whatever this Mr. O’Gorman wants him to do?

There’s a pause and Aidan wonders if he should say something.

‘I – I’m afraid I don’t quite understand, Sir.’ It’s the only thing that comes to his mind.

Maybe he lets his mask slip a little because the blond man seems worried for a moment. He huffs and breaks the professional behavior he himself keeps up really good to run a hand through his hair. He’s nervous too, Aidan realizes. 

‘Okay. That’s understandable. I might as well tell you the facts, if that’s okay with you?’

Stunningly blue eyes search his and Aidan has to look away a tad helplessly. He looks at the betel palm. She too doesn’t seem to know how he should respond.

‘I’d like that, Sir.’

That puts the composure back into those grey-clad shoulders and Mr. O’Gorman sits up a little taller, folding his hands on his desk. He doesn’t wear a ring, Aidan’s eyes helpfully tell him. Not that this is anything you need to know in the middle of a job interview. A rather strange job interview, to be fair.

Mr. O’Gorman is speaking again and Aidan hastily looks up, forcing himself to listen.

‘Fern, my assistant, needs to drop out of her job on a short-notice. Her mother has fallen seriously ill and needs someone to care for her and since Fern is her only relative, there’s no other option.’ Short sentences now, presented in a slight accent Aidan can’t really place. Straight to the point, professional. If only Aidan could bring himself to be professional, too, instead of distantly wondering if Mr. O’Gorman’s head turns for men or women.

‘This means that I desperately need a new assistant as of – right now, to be frank. This is a really small company and I just opened it, meaning that at the moment, there’s only Fern and me.’

Now the blond looks nervous and Aidan has to fight down the urge to say something calming. He doesn’t know this man, but somehow he doesn’t want those blue winter eyes to be sad. Or those slim shoulders to be tense with stress.

Aidan mentally slaps himself. Get it together, Turner! This might be your only chance!

‘As I said, I want to be honest, because blurring facts or beating around the bush is nothing either of us helps right now’, Mr. O’Gorman continues, still fixating Aidan with his eyes. ‘I need an assistant as soon as possible. And if you’re interested, I have a proposition to make.’

Aidan nods again, encouraging the man to go on, his face carefully blank again; he doesn’t want to give away how desperate and eager he is. How his heart is still racing inside his chest.

‘Yes?’

‘I’m offering you a two month-contract. You’re working as my assistant, helping me with clients and orders, doing paper-work, telephone service, all of that. There will be long hours and maybe one or two Saturday workdays, but that’s what you’ll have to do. You’ll get paid of standard…’

He shuffles through the papers again and hands Aidan a sheet of paper where the wage-standards of the different people working in advertisement these days are listed; the rank Aidan’s going to have is highlighted.

The Irishman already knows the figures, he did some general research on the internet beforehand. Didn’t want to be tricked into working for a pittance. He looks the papers over anyways. Mr. O’Gorman waits for him to nod, then continues.

‘Paid of standard, for every hour you’re working, Saturday’s a bit more, but let’s hope that won’t happen that often.’ A small smile is thrown his way again and Aidan wants to shrug and smile back, because even if he’d work every weekend, he wouldn’t really care. It’s money he does need and it’s not like he has a hundred other things to do in his free time. Anything at all, that is.

He doesn’t say it and he doesn’t smile back.

‘Right. Eight weeks, as I said. We’ll see what happens after that, because it’s still not clear of Fern’s absence will be temporary or long-term. Do you have any questions?’

‘Yes’, Aidan finds himself saying, licking his lips a little. ‘If your assistant can take up the job after those two months, do I still get paid for the work I’ve done? Is there – a line in the contract that guarantees me payment even if I stop working for you when the contract ends?’

Mr. O’Gorman’s obviously startled by that question. ‘Yes. Yes, of course you will. It’s…I’m not sure if there’s specific line in the contract concerning that, but I can add it, if you want me to.’ Aidan nods again and Mr. O’Gorman takes up a pen to write himself a note. 

‘Alright, that’s not a problem at all. There will be an exclusive paragraph confirming that you will get your money at the end of the month in any case. Anything else?’

Aidan nods again, feeling stupidly like a nodding dog. ‘You said something about short notice…?’

‘Right. I did. Ahm, basically, Fern drops out of work today and is traveling to Montana tomorrow, so…I’d need you to start working at Monday.’

Aidan takes a deep breath. That – really is short-notice. 

Mr. O’Gorman raises his hands. He looks uncomfortable again, embarrassed even. 

‘I know, it’s really, really soon. But I’m afraid I don’t have any other choice. Giving that you are ready to jump right back into the job, I would need you here in the office as of Monday.’

They talk a bit more about the formalities and Aidan asks one or two more questions about which the other man doesn’t seem to be annoyed or anything. He must be really desperate, Aidan thinks, to hire such a risk like me.

‘Think about it’, Mr. O’Gorman says when they wrap the conversation and stand up, ‘here, this is my card’, he hands Aidan a simple white card, heavy paper with elegant black writing on it, ‘it has my number on it. You can call me any time during the weekend, in fact, you should call me during the weekend and tell me your decision.’

There’s a little pause and suddenly his shoulders slump a little and his eyes get dark with worry and something between desperation and hope. 

‘I really hope you’ll take my offer.’

Aidan promises to call him as soon as possible and walks out of the office as if he’s in trance. Really, he thinks when he’s on the sidewalk again, there’s nothing really to think about. This is a one-time-chance, miraculously so, just like Adam and the Grasper&Keeper. He has no idea how he deserved this, but he will take it, no doubt about that. 

Sure, it’s only for two months, something Aidan wasn’t expecting, but then again, he didn’t expect the job interview to be earnest and real in the first place. This is something at least. He’d have to drop out of the coffee shop, that much is clear. A secure job he’s giving up for a two months-contract with no guarantee that he’ll be employed beyond that timeline. On the other hand, the money he’ll earn in those two months would be enough to keep him fed for a while, until he finds something different. 

And who knows, maybe this Fern won’t be able to come back after all and if he works hard and shows Mr. O’Gorman that he is willing and good at his job, maybe he might get a job on longer terms. 

Walking to Graham’s restaurant, Aidan is determined to not fuck this up at any costs.

~

‘You are the biggest idiot this world has ever seen.’

Dean grimaces and raises his wine glass in a mock salute. ‘Cheers, mate. Thanks for that.’

Martin, sitting at the dinner table across from him, ignores his comment and stabs a threatening finger right at his face.

‘An absolute moron! You are the most idiotic idiot to ever have idioted on God’s shitty green earth.’

Amanda choses that moment to intervene, scowling at her husband.

‘Language, Freeman.’ Martin snorts, but falls quiet, motioning for the waiter to get another Gin-Smash. 

Dean sets the wine glass down again and turns towards the final member of their little round.

‘You’ve got anything to add while where at it?’ He knows his voice is bitter, but he also feels tired to the bones.

Richard hums, thoughtfully swirling his deep red Chianti around. 

‘He’s got a point.’ Martin fist bumps the air, Amanda rolls her eyes and Dean takes another big swallow of wine. Grimaces again. Lambrusco’s not really made for throwing back to get drunk as soon as possible. Maybe he should’ve chosen something harder to drink.

‘It is quite risky to hire an assistant that’s been to prison for data theft in the very much same branch your company’s in. How do you know he won’t do it again?’

Amanda snorts. ‘Right. Because everybody that once has been in prison is bound to do it again because he’s deep-down evil and can’t change for the better?’

Her voice has a steely edge and her pale blue eyes are piercing through the dim light of the Italian noble restaurant they’re sitting in. 

Dean notices how Martin unconsciously ducks his head a little hearing his wife’s tone and it would be funny if they weren’t currently talking about his company and his future. Both of them currently on the edge of going down the drain. Shit. Dean signals the waiter over, too. Gin-Smash it is.

It’s Friday evening and Dean has called his friends in for an emergency meeting at Roberto’s. If he spends another evening sitting in his flat, brooding over papers and trying to find a way to not have his newly-formed company go tits up, he’s going insane. Thankfully, they’ve all assembled; well, except for Richard’s boyfriend who’s teaching a late yoga-class.

Dean gets why Martin calls him an idiot; he knows he is one, quite frankly. But despite that knowledge, he really has no other choice.

‘I didn’t say that, Amanda’, Richard responds calmly, palms open to show he’s not out for a fight. ‘I just said that it is risky to trust someone with inside company data who has not been dealing responsible with them in the past. That’s all.’

Amanda huffs and sips her Campari-O, careful to not smear lipstick on the glass.

‘Tell me about him’, she nods towards Dean who closes his eyes and gives in. Amanda might be the only one on his side – well, he himself isn’t on his side, but she might actually add some positivity to the mix and Dean needs that desperately right now -, given that she works as a psychologist, specialized on prisoners.

‘He’s learned at ‘Gibson and O’Neil and that means he’s beyond good, because they only take the best of the best. After his apprenticeship he worked with other companies, all of them inside the Top Ten, until he was sentenced for data theft three and a half years ago. He stole and sold secret data of the ad agency he was working for back then. He’s been out for three months now.’

Martin scowls again and Richard looks concerned, so Dean adds hastily: ‘I’ve seen his work, not only the samples he added to his application. He’s good, very good I’d say. He’d be perfect for the job in general. Plus, he’s the only one who actually answered my insertion, so…’

Dean sighs and thanks the waiter for his Gin Smash. His friends watch him, wearing various shades of concern. 

‘Look, I know this is risky. But I have no choice. No one in his right mind drops off a solid job to take up an offer like mine that short-notice. If I wanted serious, well-vouched ad men or women, I’d have to wait at least two months until someone’s answering. But I don’t have two months! I can’t work that long alone, so it’s either lose important clients and get the company to hell at once or…’

He does a vague gesture with his hand.

‘Or give a man a second chance’, Amanda fills in with a pointed looks towards Richard. 

‘Yeah and take one hell of a risk’, Martin adds. ‘Ouch.’

Dean watches Amanda cuff him up the head and nods.

‘Yes. Both of that.’ He’s near crying now and angrily starts stabbing at the lemons and crushed ice in his drink. It’s just unfair. It took him years to get his own company and everything’s still starting anyways; now, when he finally has some clients and an at least almost solid basement to actually work with, his assistant drops out. It’s almost like faith doesn’t want him to succeed.

There’s a hand on his arm suddenly and he looks to his right. Martin and Amanda are still bickering and Richard gives him a sympathetic smile.

‘It’s not your fault. The company’s good, you’re good, Deano. No one could’ve known Fern’s mum suddenly gets a stroke and needs a nurse. I’m not saying this man will definitely ruin your company by stealing data; this is a 50:50 situation. It can go horribly wrong but it also could go perfectly well. I’m afraid only time can tell.’

Dean snorts and nods.

‘Yeah, the only problem is that there’s my company and basically my existence on the line here.’

Richard gives him a warm, apologetic smile. ‘I know. But we’re here for you, every step of the way. Always were and always will be.’

That earns him a small, but earnest smile. ‘Thanks, Rich. I appreciate that.’

His phone vibrates and Dean excuses himself, stepping up into a corner more quiet than the one they are sitting in. It’s a call from an unknown number and Dean steals himself for the inevitable.

‘O’Gorman?’

‘Hello. It’s Aidan, Aidan Turner. From this morning?’

‘Mr. Turner. Good to hear from you.’

‘Ah yes. I hope it’s not too late. I just wanted to tell you that I will take your offer. The job, I mean.’

Dean exhales through his nose. Closes his eyes for a moment. So it’s decided. And like Richard said: only time will tell if he’s just made the biggest mistake in his life or the best decision ever.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Monday comes with misunderstandings, a miserable Dean and a very mortified Aidan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks! Finally, the next part to Bad is the New Good…let me tell you first: this one was hard. Really hard. For once, because I’ve been writing on this for roughly three months now and given what happened in my personal life throughout that time might have influenced this chapter. It was also really hard to write because this basically is the chapter I was most afraid of when I planned this fic out. Hence I both loved and dreaded writing it.
> 
> It’s not a happy one, it’s rather ugly. But it is a part of the story and it needed to be done nonetheless. 
> 
> Again, this is not betad…to be honest, I’m just glad I finally finished this, I didn’t really have the nerves to hand it to someone to proofread, I just wanted it to be over with.
> 
> I hope you like it and you let me know what you think.

The Grasper&Keeper has opened ten minutes ago and James is readying the bar for the customers. Dinner time is the restaurant’s busiest time and everything needs to be perfect. The chefs are in the kitchen already, preparing what food can be prepared beforehand while staying fresh; Graham is back with them, discussing the season-related menus he came up with to celebrate the coming holidays, Halloween and Thanksgiving. Well, technically, the special dishes are autumn-related; there will be a special spooky dinner on Halloween itself, an event Graham has been planning for weeks now, plus another special menu on Thanksgiving, sans the party however.

The smell of pumpkin in all edible forms wavers through the whole restaurant and James wrinkles his nose. He’s not so much of a pumpkin-friend, but he has to admit that the seasonal drinks like Lillet Sour, Rusty Nail, Gipsy and mead are a very good idea. He himself is currently sipping a Rusty Nail, only to confirm he got it right, of course. It’s shortly after six and most of the dinner guests don’t come in until seven or eight, so he’s fine. It’s going to be a slow night, it always is at a Monday. The restaurant is – like any other restaurant – busiest at the weekend, but they can’t complain about empty tables on workdays either. In fact, James prefers work days; it’s not as hectic as weekends. He’s not the youngest anymore, after all.

The thick, bordeaux red curtains that separate the entry from the main room to keep the warmth in the room rustle and a moment later, someone steps through then. James is a little surprised since they just opened and normally, it takes a good hour or two for people to come in.

Looking up, however, the Irishman quickly realizes it’s not a customer.

It’s Aidan and automatically, James’ mouth starts to widen in a grin, because at least the inner circle of the Grasper&Keeper-staff knows that today was Aidan’s first day at mysterious Mr. O’Gorman’s company. James assumes the curly-head came here to celebrate with them and he’s already reaching for a glass behind the counter, when he looks up again and sees Aidan’s face up close. The grin falls from his lips as quickly as it came and makes place for a concerned frown.

Aidan is pale, white even, his dark hair and eyes standing out more clearly against the rest of his face. Even his lips are pale where they’re pressed into a thin line, lower lip trembling slightly. The young man’s whole composure speaks volumes about his current state of mind: shoulders drawn up and tense, the long, lithe body tensed up like a bow-string; Aidan’s long fingers clench and unclench themselves into fists at his sides and he looks like he’s either going to start crying or vomiting.

James stares at his new friend disbelievingly. “Sweet baby Jesus, what happened?!” He asks once Aidan’s in hearing reach. The younger shakes his head, his whole body trembling now. He attempts to climb on a bar stool, but his legs must give out under him because he sags forward, against the bar. James scrambles to jog around the bar, while he shouts in the back-area for help. It comes in form of Jed and Graham, the former looking curious, the latter slightly disgruntled for the disturbance. When they see Aidan however, both their facial expressions shift to worry.

“What happened?” Graham asks, too, stepping forward to where James tries to stop Aidan from falling to the floor and attempting to heave him onto a bar stool. The bald chef hooks strong arms under Aidan’s armpits and hauls him up, helping the younger to one of the nearby tables. “No idea, he came in’ere just now, lookin’ like hell and then he nearly faints on me.” Graham scans Aidan’s face, while Jed hovers nearby awkwardly.

“You want me to call an ambulance, boss?”

Graham finishes his inspection and finally shakes his head. “No. But go and give Adam a call, I know he had the morning shift, but he surely wants to know about this. And bring a bowl with water and a clean cloth, will you? Jimmy, fetch the kiddo a brandy or something.”

~°°~

It’s early, just short after six, but Dean orders Bourbon nonetheless while he waits for his friends. He’s in the same restaurant they were in on Friday and for a similar reason this time. Dean drags a hand down his face, desperately willing his mind to be anything but chaos, frustration and anger. He doesn’t even know if he’s angry at himself or Mr. Turner. By the time Martin and Amanda arrive, the Bourbon is almost gone and Dean has ordered another one. His friends regard his choice of drink with raised eyebrows before they take a seat next to him. It’s just the two tonight, since Richard is still on duty and Lee gives yoga-classes until nine.

“So.” It’s Martin who speaks first, of course. Silence isn’t exactly his thing. “Why are we having an emergency meeting again so soon? And why are you drinking the hard stuff already?” Dean continues to rub at his forehead, hoping that will keep the headache at bay that has been looming over him for a few hours now. The day started quite alright, but spiraled right into a catastrophe. He’s already behind schedule and if he loses any more clients, he’ll be forced to shut down the business and…

There’s a hand on his elbow and when he looks up, Amanda watches him in concern. “Talk to us, Deano”, she pleads, scooting closer. “It’s no good to bury it all; I know you want to solve things on your own, but you can’t. And we’re here for you. So, what’s wrong?” The blond takes a shaky breath and watches the waiter bring his refill of Bourbon. Martin orders a glass of white wine for his wife and a beer for himself, turning back to Dean with a serious expression on his face once the man is gone. He’s worried, too, even if he’s not able to put it into words like Amanda. “I”, Dean gulps, leaning back in his chair, taking another deep breath. “Today was Mr. Turner’s first day and-“ He stops and shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. He’s not sure if he wants to laugh or cry. Martin crosses his arms in front of his chest. “I take it, it didn’t go very well?” Dean closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Not exactly, no. I gave him a client’s file and asked him to summarize the wishes and ideas of said client; I didn’t even ask him to come up with own ideas, just to outline the basis so I can work with that. And then I – I didn’t hear anything from him the whole day. He’s got Fern’s office, the desk outside my own.” His voice forms a question mark at the end of that sentence, because he isn’t sure if his friends are familiar with his office’s outline, but both Amanda and Martin are nodding. Right, they’ve been to the premises containing his company before.

“He just didn’t come in for hours and I started wondering because, seriously, this simple task wouldn’t take that long. So I went outside and I found him sitting at his desk, the file closed in front of him. At first I thought he hadn’t done anything, but when I asked him, Mr. Turner handed me the list I asked for. He had finished it two hours ago! But for some reason that’s beyond me he didn’t hand me the list nor asked for another task I had for him! Can you believe that?!” Dean takes another gulp of the Bourbon, loosening his tie. There’s anger and desperation rushing through his veins, leaving him lightheaded and slightly shaking. Because really, how can a grown man and a trained consoler be this non-independent?!

Dean opens his eyes again, looks to his friends for compassion, confirmation that this behavior is indeed not acceptable at all. Martin snorts and shakes his head, gives Dean an “I fucking told you so!”-look, but Amanda’s eyebrows are furrowed and she’s watching him closely. Scrutinizing. It’s her husband who speaks first, however. “Honestly, is this man serious? That’s not appropriate behavior at all, it’s miles from it, actually…” He shakes his head again, dismissingly. “I hope you told him as much?” Dean nods and ducks his head slightly this time, embarrassment creeping up on him. “I – might’ve gotten a little – loud.” That’s an understatement, he knows it himself. But to be fair, Dean’s in a delicate situation here. His business is on the verge of collapsing and he needs someone who’s capable of replacing Fern, if only for a short amount of time. Otherwise, there’s no hope for his company, his dream. Years of hard work, exhaustion, tears and sweat down the drain in an instance. A fulfilled lifelong dream gone in an instance, proving to be as fleeting as a bird’s song in the middle of a hurricane.

He can’t let that happen.

Amanda’s eyes are on him again, calculating. She’s sensing there’s more, more to tell and Dean has no doubt whatsoever that she’s already mapping out the best strategy to get the details from him. She’s always been thorough, has to be in her profession. Always wants to get to the very bottom of things. Dean gulps down air. There’s no doubt she will.

~°°~

Five minutes later, there’s a cool cloth pressed into Aidan’s neck, held there by Jed, while Graham coaxes the young man to slowly sip the brandy with a voice that’s far more gentle than his normal gruffness. It’s clear that Aidan’s not really with them mentally, painfully clear in his unfocused eyes and the way his body reacts just a tad delayed. Graham exchanges another worried glance with his employees but again decides against an ambulance. They can’t help because this isn’t physical but psychical. Aidan’s shell-shocked right now, no ability to make his own decisions or even recollect where he is.

Adam’s arrival is a blessing. They all breathe a little easier when the slim man enters the restaurant, hair a mess and glasses crooked on his nose like he’s been asleep just minutes ago – which he probably was – and jumped the next bus bringing him here without so much as looking into a mirror. They collectively don’t care and Graham moves aside to give Adam access to his flat mate and friend. Frantic hands pat over Aidan’s pliant body, instinctively checking for injuries that are not there; a habit from darker times spent together and James and Graham share a look over their heads, grim and understanding. Once satisfied, Adam’s hands move to Aidan’s face, cupping pale cheeks. “What happened?”, he breathes, though it’s not clear if he’s addressing Aidan or his colleagues around him. When the curly-haired-man doesn’t react, doesn’t even acknowledge that Adam is right in front of him, James takes over, repeating what he’d told Graham and Jed once they’d arrived at the scene.

Adam’s still searching Aidan’s face, trying to get any eye contact at all. The brunet’s breathing hasn’t improved, it’s still irregular as if he can’t force enough oxygen down for his lungs to work properly. On impulse, Graham turns towards Jed: “Go out front, flip the sign.” There’s no way he’s going to let customers come in here now, not for their sake but for Aidan’s. This is a priority right now, his business be damned. He’s not in the reds yet by far, he can deal with a few hours sans sales. Graham knows what a panic-attack looks like and Aidan’s having a major one right now. The bald man thrusts the empty glass in James’ hand. “Another one. No, wait, make that a round.” They can all use some leverage now, but whichever way this will turn out, Graham refuses to back down. Refuses to kick Aidan out. This is not the brunet’s fault. And the Scot would rather be damned than to not help out a friend in need.

Jed and James both scramble away and return within moments, James with a tray full of shot glasses and one larger glass for Aidan. Halfway through the whiskey Adam gently coaxes down Aidan’s throat, finally, there’s a reaction from the other. His eyes aren’t glazed over anymore, but start to focus on their surroundings. With it, Aidan’s breathing picks up and his body starts to shake again. “It’s okay, Aid”, Adam murmurs, still cupping Aidan’s cheeks. “You’re okay, you’re safe. We’re at the Grasper&Keeper, right? No one’s going to harm you here.” Graham moves behind Aidan, placing two big, heavy hands on his shoulders, hoping to offer silent support and to ground the younger man in the present. It seems to work, because after a long moment, Aidan finally finds his voice again.

“Adam?” His friend releases a sigh of relief, smiling faintly. “Yeah, bud, it’s me. What’s going on, hm? Can you tell me what happened?” Aidan takes a shuddering breath, sitting up a little bit. Graham eases the pressure on his shoulders but lets his hands stay where they are. The poor lad can use all the support he can get. “I-I fucked up today at work, I…Mr. O’Gorman gave me this file and I did what he asked me to, all of it, thoroughly, but…”

~°°~

The waiter brings Martin’s and Amanda’s drinks, but the latter doesn’t even break her eye contact with Dean, reaching blindly for her wine glass. “Okay. What exactly did you tell Mr. Turner?” The blond is slightly confused. “Ahm, you mean when I gave him the file or when I noticed he’d been lazing about all morning?” “When you handed him the file.” “I said: ‘Please summarize the facts and ideas of this customer for me’. That’s it, I suppose.” Amanda hums thoughtfully, then, suddenly, she slams her hand on the table so hard it nearly topples her glass of wine over and makes both Martin and Dean jump in their seats.

“Dean O’Gorman, you really are the most stupid idiot to walk this earth!”

Dean blinks upon this accusation, not following in the slightest. “I-what?!”

“You heard me just fine! This was the stupidest thing you could have told poor Mr. Turner!” Dean shoots Martin a look, looking for help, but the man seems as puzzled as Dean himself is. “I’m not following”, Dean states and Amanda takes a deep breath. Another sip of wine, then she’s ready to elaborate her earlier words: “I’m sorry, but you didn’t exactly handle this situation with tact. See, Mr. Turner was in prison for what, three years?” She waits for Dean’s confirming nod, then she continues: “And he’s been out for only a handful of months. Dean…life inside and outside are two different things. And to be honest, I was expecting you to do some research on proper behavior around an ex-con if you hire said ex-con! Or at least ask me!”

“Ask you…?” Dean’s brain feels like it’s turned into jelly within the last minutes. Amanda rolls her eyes at him, huffing. “Yes, me. After all, I’ve been working as a psychological counselor at prison for years now, Deano, I work with cons every fucking day! I know their problems, their struggles, inside and once they get released.” Dean leans back in his seat, nodding. “Okay. But what does this have to do with Mr. Turner’s behavior this morning?” “Everything. You see, a prison is a different world, like its own universe compared to anything going on outside. There are rules, strict rules, of course, but there’s also a bit of freedom, as well: prisoners can do an apprenticeship inside, they can try to build a ground they can base their life on when they’re released. But my point is: even within these apprenticeships as well as in all-day-life in prison, there’s one major rule: you do exactly as you’re told. No straying from the order, no ‘I brought my own ideas into this’, no ‘I made some improvements’. You do as you’re told, no less, no more.”

Amanda falls silent again and looks at Dean expectantly. When after a minute, there’s no answer, the blond sighs and rolls her eyes. “My point is: Mr. Turner did exactly what you told him to. ‘Please summarize the facts and ideas of this customer for me’. No more, no less. You didn’t tell him to hand you the results once he’s finished, you didn’t tell him to fetch new tasks once he’s finished. He’s dealt with this situation the only way he knows: by applying the measures of in-prison-life.”

~°°~

“I-I knew this wasn’t all he’d ask me to do, it couldn’t be, he told me during my job interview that he’s up to his throat in commissions, I knew there must be other things he wants me to do, but…I didn’t dare to ask, because the last time I made my own decision and assumed something…” Aidan trails of, whimpering. He’s curling in on himself now, fingers frantically grasping at his hair, pulling in some sort of seeking relief. Adam takes those hands into his quickly, rubbing soothing circles over cold flesh. “And that’s understandable, Aidan, it really is. Of course that’s what you did, that’s what we all do!” He doesn’t talk about it, but the Englishman behaved the same way during his first days on this job; his advantage had been, however, that Graham himself had some experience in this matter and therefore reacted appropriately by giving exact orders. Adam hadn’t even realized the whole thing until a few weeks into his job when his social skills and behavior had slowly changed to the average’s person’s. He could only hope that Mr. O’Gorman had proven the same empathy as Graham.

“He – he yelled at me!”, Aidan hiccups, tears now running down his cheeks. Well, there goes Adam’s hope. “He told m-me how this was unprofessional and he’ll l-lose clients because of me and that I was a l-lost case…” The rest of his words are muffled because Adam pulls his friend forward, hugging him tightly. “Shh. It’s going to be alright, Aid, I swear. Everything’s going to be okay…” At that, the younger yanks his head back, looking at his friend with wild eyes, cheeks puffy and red now. “How?! How can everything be alright again, Adam? Mr. O’Gorman’s going to fire me tomorrow, I fucked this up, I really did! The one chance I had to get my old life back and I mucked it up…” A new wave of tears chokes him and again, Adam relentlessly pulls Aidan into his arms, lets him cry over his shirt and strokes his arms. The chef looks up helplessly to his boss and colleagues. Graham’s still stroking Aidan’s shoulders as best as he can and James and Jed look shaken themselves. But there’s not much hope in their eyes, only sadness and compassion. Because they can tell Aidan that everything’s going to be fine, that his boss won’t kick him for this; but at the same time, they all know it’s basically a lie.

Because how can a man who’s not shared their experiences possible understand what’s it like to be them? And to offer their friend another chance?


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first step is always the hardest…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woops, this chapter was posted on Tumblr at the 19th of October and I intended to put it up here as well a few days later; seems like I forgot about that...
> 
> So sorry for the delay, I hope you like it nevertheless!
> 
> Originally, this chapter was planned to be longer, but since you’ve all waited long enough as it is I decided to split it and give you something today, though there’s not really much happening here.
> 
> Please enjoy & feel welcome to tell me what you think :)

The next morning dawns with a grey sky and pouring rain. Aidan rolls out of bed with a bone deep feeling of exhaustion that’s taking roots within his body, happily refusing to go away. The curly-haired barely slept last night and if he did, he woke up from nasty nightmares repeating themselves in his head over and over again. Mr. O’Gorman firing him. Mr. O’Gorman yelling at him. Shooing him out of the office where a faceless crowd waits, laughing and mocking. In the next dream, the crowd outside wasn’t faceless anymore, but inmates and jailers, either mocking Aidan or telling him straight up they knew he was useless all along. When Aidan started to defend himself, they were suddenly replaced by Adam and his newly-made friends at the Grasper&Keeper, looking disappointed and hurt. And finally, when Aidan turned around helplessly and frightened, there was his family, standing right in front of him, faces dark with disgust and disappointment.

His father had started screaming again: You’re a disgrace for this family! Desperately, Aidan had turned towards his mother, who had cried and shrieked You’ve abandoned us all, we trusted you and you dragged us down with your sins. Tears sprang to his eyes and Aidan helplessly turned towards his brother and sister, but they, too, only had disgust in their eyes. You’re not our brother anymore.

That was when Aidan bolted upright, panting heavily, mouth open in a silent scream. It took him several minutes to realize where he was and that it had been but a nightmare. Exhausted and restless at the same time, Aidan dragged himself into the bathroom. The ice cold water of the shower chased away his sleepiness for the time being, but the images stayed.

Adam waits for him in the kitchen, a large mug of coffee sitting on the table and a guarded, careful expression on his face.

“I’m sure it will be alright, Aidan”, he says lowly, placing a few slices of buttered toast in front of his friend.

Aidan doesn’t answer. He’s not hungry, the lack of sleep and anticipation of what’s waiting for him at the office downtown making him want to hurl. Still, he forces down the toast, more for Adam’s sake than his own.

“Come by the restaurant after, please?! We’re all worried, Aidan, and we’re keeping our fingers crossed for you. Let us know how it went, okay?”

Adam doesn’t sound even half as cheerful as he thinks he is, but nevertheless, Aidan nods. He’s on autopilot while dressing himself, attempting to tame his dark curls and giving up after a few tries. It doesn’t matter what he looks like. Mr. O’Gorman will fire him the moment he arrives at the office, Aidan knows that. There’s no way someone as perfect and successful as his boss will keep someone like Aidan around. Who’s not even able to accomplish the simplest of tasks.

Just before he slips out of the door, Adam walks up to him once more and hugs him.

“Don’t forget, we all have your back. Whatever happens, you’re not alone in this, Aid. Not anymore. And you heard Graham yesterday, if the worst happens you can start working at the restaurant a few hours a week until you get something new; it’ll be enough to pay the rent and get by for a few weeks. We’re going to get through this, together.”

Did Graham say that yesterday? Aidan doesn’t remember; the whole evening is one big blur in his mind. It’s a nice gesture and Aidan is thankful for the Scot’s offer; he’s positive he will need to take him up to it tonight.

The Irishman chokes back tears while riding the metro to his work place. Former work place, he corrects himself in his head. This was his opportunity and he mucked it up, big time. Maybe his father was right: maybe this is what he deserves after all. He’s made a bad decision some time ago and with it, he ruined his life. Once and for all.

From the way people keep throwing him side glances in the subway Aidan guesses he doesn’t only feel like death warmed over, he looks like it as well. In the train he has to sit down, although it rumples his dress pants. Aidan doesn’t particularly care. This must be some kind of sad record: getting and losing a job within three days only. Tonight, he’s going to be back to square one and that thought terrifies him.

Biting his lip so hard it almost starts bleeding, the Irishman wills himself not to cry in a subway train full of commuters. The subway wouldn’t mind though, he’s sure. It has probably seen worse. The people around him however would. And he doesn’t need even more judging from anyone.

When Aidan arrives in front of the office building that contains O’Gorman Advertisement, he’s way too early. He contemplates buying himself a coffee at the store on the other side of the street – the effect of both the cold shower and the coffee Adam made him this morning have worn off by now. But he’s not so sure if he can stomach anything right now, minutes away from getting fired, so Aidan decides against coffee. Besides, it would probably be a good idea to start saving some money.

~°~

Ten minutes later, Mr. O’Gorman arrives, looking a little confused. He’s probably wondering why Aidan even bothered to come back today.

“You’re early”, the blond observes. He’s holding two take-away coffee cups from Starbucks. One for him and the other for the new assistant that most likely will come in later today to replace Aidan.

The Irishman doesn’t know what to say, so he offers a weak shrug. His boss doesn’t make another comment; instead he somehow manages to unlock the door while balancing the cups. Aidan’s heart flutters in his chest; from lack of sleep, he tries to convince himself. Not at all from the simple gorgeousness and perfection that’s the man in front of him. Definitely not.

They enter the building together and the way upstairs to the office is spent in silence. On the outside, at least. Inside, Aidan is alternating between screaming and fighting the urge to turn around and run. No. He is not a coward. He can face the consequences of his own mistakes. He has to because he deserves them.

Swallowing repeatedly, Aidan watches Mr. O’Gorman hang up his coat by the door and cross the room towards his own office. Since Aidan’s not making a move to follow him, the smaller man falters in his steps and stops. A deep drawn breath lifts his shoulders momentarily, then Mr. O’Gorman turns around to face Aidan, the Starbucks cups still in his hands.

“Mr. Turner…we might as well get this out of the way right now, yes? So we can move on to more practical things.”

Although he knew exactly this talk was going to happen sooner or later, it still catches Aidan off guard. He nearly swallows his own tongue and nods, again stunned into silence. He doesn’t even want to know what exactly Mr. O’Gorman is thinking of him right now. The blond walks towards Aidan, gently steering him to the pair of chairs in the corner where normally clients wait for their appointments. 

Aidan takes a seat, cold sweat beading on his forehead suddenly. This is it. He’s going to be unemployed in approximately ten minutes.

“I have to apologize to you.”

Oh, the Irishman thinks, there’s absolutely no need for that. Firing someone as useless as me is perfectly understandable.

It really is.

“I behaved like an idiot yesterday. It wasn’t fair to treat you like that, even yell at you.” There’s a quiet chuckle coming from the blond that lacks any humor. “In hindsight I don’t even recognize myself! I’m not the person to yell or throw tantrums easily, believe me. I suppose those past few weeks have been a little stressful and I’m quite on edge, but of course that’s no excuse at all to take it out on you. I’m very, very sorry about that.”

Mr. O’Gorman stops talking and looks at Aidan expectantly. The Irishman is beyond confused, but nods tentatively.

“I – it’s not a problem, Sir.”

The blond huffs. “Yes, it is! I should know how to handle such situations, I’ve been working in the service sector long enough – I should know how to treat people correctly, damnit.”

Involuntarily, Aidan flinches back at the curse coming from his boss. Mr. O’Gorman seems to notice and again, there’s guilt painting his features. Aidan suppresses the urge to lean forward and smooth out the lines on that handsome face with his hand. Apparently, his brain has the habit of wanting highly inappropriate things at highly inappropriate times lately.

“And here I am doing it yet again.” His boss sighs and takes a deep breath. “I should’ve approached you entirely different from the start, Mr. Turner, should’ve taken your background into consideration. That’s my job as your boss, to make sure you’re comfortable working here. I vow to do better in the future. In fact, how about we forget yesterday happened? We’ll simply pretend today is your first work day.”

With a tentative, but honest smile, Mr. O’Gorman sticks out a hand towards Aidan.

“Welcome to the job, Mr. Turner. I’m more than happy to have you working with me.”

Wait. What?

“W-what?”, Aidan stutters, feeling confused and lost. What on earth is happening?

The smile on his boss’ face retreats, being replaced by another little frown.

“I – I don’t mean we forget what happened, of course not. I assure you I will not forget my mistakes and I’ll try harder in the future.”

“Wait. This – does this mean I’m not fired?” Aidan has to clarify, sounding disbelieving through and through even to his own ears.

Now it’s Mr. O’Gorman that looks confused.

“What? No, of course not. What happened yesterday was my fault and I’m very sorry for any negative affect that had on you.”

His eyes flicker over Aidan’s face, no doubt taking in the dark circles underneath his eyes and the paleness of his skin.

“But I can’t stress enough how all of that was my fault; so why would I fire you for it?”

Aidan blinks rapidly as the words start to sink in. He’s not fired and Mr. O’Gorman apparently thinks the whole thing is his fault rather than Aidan’s. The brunet has a hard time wrapping his head around that, mouth opening and closing on its own accord. When he looks up at his boss, he realizes he’s being watched and should probably say something.

“I – I’m sorry, I’m just surprised. I came back today convinced you’d not want me to work for you anymore. After I was so useless yesterday…”, he admits quietly, casting his eyes down briefly before looking up again.

The other man cringes and sighs. “I’m really, really sorry, Mr. Turner. If I could, I’d travel back in time and completely restart our first workday together.”

A little shyly, Aidan sticks his hand out suddenly. “Well, maybe we can.”

Mr. O’Gorman looks at him curiously and with a tentative smile, Aidan adds: “Hi, I’m Aidan Turner and I promise you I’ll do my best to be the best assistant you’ll ever have.”

The smile that opens on the other man’s face surely is enough to light up a whole city. Mr. O’Gorman is practically beaming at Aidan, grasping his hand in a firm grip.

“Delighted to meet you, Mr. Turner. In turn, I’ll try to be a fair boss.”

He hands Aidan one of the coffee cups, looking hopeful. “I just had to bring you something to make amends for my inappropriate behavior yesterday. As I said, usually I’m not one to yell and I sincerely hope it won’t happen again. However, I don’t know how you take your coffee yet, so…”

Aidan takes the offered cup, trying to ignore the little somersault his heart does when their fingers touch briefly.

“I’m sure it’s perfectly fine.” He definitely needs the caffeine after such an emotional rollercoaster ride this early in the day. It’s all still hard to take in, this miracle: he still has a job.

Smiling quietly to himself, Aidan takes a sip of his coffee. He’s certain it’s the best he’s had in the last four years.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where things get better for both Dean and Aidan

They start working shortly after their little exchange, after all, there’s a whole heap of work to do. Aidan takes up the place at his desk where he started working yesterday, still feeling a tad bit dazed over the fact he can still call this his workplace. The dread in his stomach is gone, replaced by bubbly excitement and determination. To make this right. To not behave like yesterday. To not let Mr. O’Gorman regret his decision to keep him.

When the older man hands him some files later, Dean’s extra careful to give exact instructions, Aidan notices. He’s to sort through them and list the details; facts about the company, customer’s wishes, etc. Once he’s finished with that he’s instructed to bring them to Mr. O’Gorman’s office. Also, he’s in charge of the main landline. Greet customers, note their requests, inform Mr. O’Gorman and tell the clients to either wait for him to call back or put them through. 

It’s a lot to do, but if anything, Aidan is grateful. Both for the amount of work and the detailed instructions. This sounds more like a workday he’s used to, he can totally work with that. Granted, it’s been a while since he last had a normal day at the office and he’s a little nervous when the phone rings for the first time, but it all goes pretty smoothly and from there on, Aidan gains confidence. 

He’s more thorough with his tasks then he ever was in his whole life; after all, this is his chance to prove that he is good as his job, both to Mr. O’Gorman and himself. His imprisonment might have left a dent in his self-confidence the size of the Loch Ness, but he’s giving his best. 

By midday his stomach reminds Aidan that he didn’t exactly have a huge breakfast and didn’t have dinner the night before either. On top of that, his lack of sleep starts to catch up with him and consequently, he needs more caffeine to stay concentrated – but for that he needs something solid first. Biting his lip, Aidan eyes the closed door to his boss’ office hesitantly. Mr. O’Gorman didn’t say anything about lunch breaks and although those things are settled in his contract, Aidan can’t quite remember the wording. He knows that he has to have a lunch break, that’s obvious. But again, his boss didn’t say anything about the how and when, so…

This internal battle goes on for a few minutes, before Aidan finally musters up the courage to walk towards the older man’s office to ask about it. However, right before he reaches the glass door, it suddenly swings open, almost hitting him in the chest. Mr. O’Gorman nearly collides with him, managing to catch himself the last moment. Which means they are now standing face to face – or well, rather face to chest, since the blond is shorter than Aidan – and Aidan knows that strictly speaking, this is a little too close to be appropriate and he should back away. Immediately. Only, he’s rooted to the spot, partly because his sleep-deprived brain is working more than sluggish and partly because – of the heat the other man radiates. And then this smell hits Aidan’s nostrils, aftershave or cologne maybe, something spicy, yet sweet…

~°~

Listening to Amanda was a good decision, Dean concludes when the first half of the day is over. Now that he has clear instructions, Mr. Turner is in a much better shape than he was yesterday. He’s working concentrated and thoroughly, though when he put through the first client on the phone that day, he had sounded quite nervous. Dean didn’t blame him; back in the day when it was him being an assistant, he’d hated operating the phone as well. It was just so – impersonal. But it’s part of the job nonetheless and needs to be done. Mr. Turner is having no trouble so far and Dean’s pleased – for the time being. He still doesn’t trust his new employee, but, he reminds himself, he doesn’t have a choice if he doesn’t want to lose his business. 

Around lunchtime, Dean decides he needs to take a break to eat something; he also wants to give his assistant a new task. He’s been mulling this over in his head for the better part of an hour: he needs to run some errands for a client, but at the same time, he needs to pull up a draft for another client. Both tasks are extremely important, but he can’t do both if he wants them finished today. So, he begrudgingly concludes, he has to trust Mr. Turner with one of them. Wonderful.

Walking out of his own office into the reception area results in him almost running into said Mr. Turner who evidently had been on his way to see him. They’re too close for it to still be decent, but strangely, Dean doesn’t find the motivation to step back. At least not at first.

“Um.”

Great opening, O’Gorman. Brilliant.

“There’s something I need you to do…”

While he says this, Dean’s realizing Mr. Turner is speaking as well. It takes him a moment to process what it is he’s saying:

“I was wondering, uh, it’s lunchtime, sir…”

Awkward silence follows both statements. Dean forces his eyes up from where they were still fixed on the taller man’s throat and the hint of stubble there. Mr. Turner looks nervous, fidgeting slightly on his feet as if he’s uncomfortable. Because they are standing so close to one another or because of the hidden question about lunch?  
Dean’s the one who’s taking a (hopefully) discreet step back, out of the other’s personal space. The guy has been in prison, it’s entirely possible he’s not at all comfortable with being close to a person he doesn’t know. What did Amanda tell him only yesterday? ‘Give him space, Deano, everything’s practically alien for him right now.’ Congratulation, he’d failed this one drastically. Hooray…

“Of course, lunch. I was just going to tell you I’ll order something from a Thai place around the corner. Do you want something as well? Do you like Thai?”

A small frown has appeared on his assistant’s face, turning his eyebrows into a triangle. Does this concern the fact that Dean stepped away from him or the Thai food? 

“I – sure. I don’t want to be a bother…”

“No!”, Dean practically shouts. “Ehm…no, it’s not, not a bother at all. Here, let me…” He’s walking back to his desk, rummaging through one of his desk drawers. “This is the menu, the noodles are very good. And the dumplings. There’s a vegetarian alternative for each menu as well if you’re…if you don’t eat meat, I mean.”

He’s surprised his hand isn’t shaking when he hands Mr. Turner the leaflet. Christ, what is he doing? Rambling like a 12-year-old simply because he stood too close to his assistant for half a minute? Sure, said assistant is drop-dead gorgeous with his curls and clearly trained body and…

Thankfully, the other man’s still concentrated on the menu, not noticing the slight blush that creeps onto Dean’s face. Pull yourself together, man!, Dean berates himself mentally. This is neither the place nor the time.

“I’ll take a Miso-soup and number 8, fried noodles with chicken – which answers your question regarding the vegetarian, I think. But only if it’s really not a problem…”

There’s a small smile playing around Mr. Turner’s mouth that nearly knocks the breath out of Dean.

“Nonsense, I was ordering something for myself anyway. Oh, and before I forget, I need to talk to you after lunch.”

That sentence wipes the smile clear of the other’s face and the frown is back. Now his assistant looks like a kicked puppy.

“Is – did I do something wrong, sir?”

Again, Dean nearly swallows his own tongue in his haste to reassure his new employee.

“No, no, absolutely not! I just need you to run a few errands for me while I continue working on the flyers for Mr. McDowel’s new club. Nothing to worry about.”

Which lessens the frown, thank goodness. 

Lunch is a quiet affair, both men eating at their own desks. It strikes Dean then that he really misses Fern; she’s been his assistant, sure, but she’s also become a friend during the time she’s worked for him – the main reason why she was so skeptical about her replacement. In a whim, Dean pulls his personal phone out of his desk drawer and shoots her a text, asking how her mother’s doing and if she needs anything. He’s just finished his beef dumplings when there’s a soft knock at the door and upon his answer, Mr. Turner enters, looking as if he’s on his way to the gallons.

“Come in, Mr. Turner, it’s really not that bad, I promise.” The blond produces a piece of paper from his printer.

“I need you to take this to the copy shops I usually use”, he hands him a second sheet of paper listing the copy shops he’s worked with before, “and ask for a first draft, what they have in mind concerning color, character and price. Bring all samples to me so I can decide which copy shop we’ll take for the future Mrs and Mrs Crawford’s wedding invitation. Everything clear?”

Giving exact orders is surprisingly easy, Dean notes, although he’s only started today. Apparently that grows on you.

“Yes, sir. I’ll be as fast as I can.”


End file.
